Deconstruct to Reconstruct
by BasiaM82
Summary: AU At 17 Rogue meets someone whose powers allow her to touch him. Four years later, she realizes that this wasn't the life she wanted. -includes Pulse from the comic books-
1. The Fine Art of Falling Apart

**WARNING: Contains descriptions of domestic violence and abuse and adult situations (not really graphic for the most part, but there nonetheless). **

**Hi all! Okay, so one Saturday morning, this little plotline invaded my brain and I wound up spending roughly twelve hours writing this fic. I'm not sure if it's any good, but it's the most I've written in one sitting and I thought the idea was interesting enough to entertain anyway. I've already got an idea for part 2 bouncing around in my skull pan and had originally intended for it to be the end of this story, but this seemed like a natural stopping point. And I hope Rogue doesn't seem too OOC. I hope I got the point across that she's in a vulnerable spot in her life and that the no BS Rogue is still under there . At the same time, I hope she's not too much like snivelling, movie Rogue. (cuz she really bugs me)**

**So here's the premise: Evo-verse, AU (definitely). What if Rogue didn't join the X-Men after finding out that Mystique deceived her? She runs away and meets Augustus, (Pulse from the comics) a mutant who can turn off her powers and give her something she never thought she'd experience again: human touch. But what happens when it's not all she wanted it to be?**

**NOTE: I couldn't find what Augustus' last name was (his profile isn't even on the Marvel site, and the Marvel Wikia just has his first name listed) so I made one up.**

**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Marvel comics. I gain nothing (besides personal entertainment) from this story. The title of this part of the story is borrowed from the song **_**The Fine Art of Falling Apart**_** by the Matthew Good Band. This story doesn't really have much to do with the content of the song; the title just seemed to fit.**

**Please feel free to leave comments and criticisms. If I've created something lame, go ahead and call me on it. If you like it, kind words will make me feel warm and fuzzy. If you have any suggestions or if I've committed a grammatical faux pas please let me know. **

**Please enjoy!**

**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: The Fine Art of Falling Apart**

_I should win an Oscar,_ she thought. Too bad there wasn't a category for faking pleasure during sex. She would moan and squirm when his touches, kisses and movements demanded it of her. Her face would contort in, what he interpreted as, blissful agony, and she would open her eyes just long enough to give him a practiced, sultry stare before tossing her head back and allowing (read: forcing) a gasp to escape her mouth. She knew his patterns like the back of her hand. She knew when he was close to finishing. His hands would plant themselves on her hips with a bruising grip and his pace would gradually quicken. This was her cue to arch her back, clench her muscles and cry out. Failure to do so might bust his ego, possibly resulting in a busted lip for her.

Sometimes, when she was in the proverbial "shit house" with him beforehand, she'd even call his name in that thankful, yet desperate, tone that he loved to hear when he fucked her - but not tonight. Tonight he'd have to settle for "Oh God!" followed by an exhausted collapse back onto the mattress. Soon after, his body would stiffen; he would grunt, laboriously thrust another one or two more times and then crumple on top of her. Sometimes he would shower her with kisses and whisper "I love you" and other such sentiments when he felt he needed forgiveness from her, but not tonight. Tonight he'd roll over and promptly fall asleep.

Fairly confident that he wasn't going to wake any time soon, she rose from her bed and made her way through the mess of discarded clothing to the bathroom. She flicked on the light switch and quickly shut the door so as not to disturb him. It was relatively early in the evening – just passed six – but he always napped after they finished coupling and would be grumpy if she woke him while she got ready for work. It was easier if she left while he slept anyway, and better still if he'd still be asleep when she returned. She stopped as she passed the mirror. Shadows lingered under dull, green eyes and her face was a little thinner and a little paler than it should have been. When had she begun to feel so old? She had given him four years of her life, and it felt as though he'd taken forty.

Her eyes travelled to the now yellowing handprint on her upper arm. Although she could not see them right now, she imagined the marks on her back were probably a similar colour by now. He was angry a few days ago and she had done something to set him off. She couldn't remember it now, but whatever it was resulted in the two of them fighting. At one point she expressed that she didn't need to put up with his shit and she could do better than him. He grabbed her arm and shook her for a bit before tossing her into the decorative shelving that had once been on one of the walls of the living room. Then, in movements not unlike a predatory animal, he leaned in close to her face and proceeded to put her in her place: _"Yeah? Like who? Name one person on this god-forsaken planet that would be willing to be with someone they can't touch,"_ he spat._ "I __**am**__ the best you'll ever have because I'm the only one who can touch you. If anything, __**I**__ could go out and find better and __**you'll**__ be left to rot. You're lucky that I love you enough to see past your ungratefulness, otherwise you would have been alone a long time ago."_

It stung just as much this time as it did when it first happened. _"You're right, I'm sorry,"_ she would whisper as tears spilled from her eyes. The first time they had a fight like this one she was genuinely afraid that he would leave her and felt ashamed at being so selfish. In fact, she was more than willing to let him have anything he wanted from her. Soon, she was surrendering her paycheques to him. They were deposited into a joint account, but he refused to allow her use the money from it. (If she tried, he guaranteed that she'd regret it.)The only reason her name was on the account was to make it easier to process her cheques. Any tips she made were also handed over after each shift. He convinced her that if she ever needed anything he would get it for her and that it's just easier when one person looks after the money. And she agreed to every bit of it because in the end, who would want someone that can't be touched? He was the hero that rescued her from a lifetime of solitude. More and more though, after what seemed like (and likely was) hundreds of fights that ended in tears and bruises, she really wondered how much he had actually _rescued_ her and if having someone that could touch her was really worth enduing all that was wrong with their relationship.

Resuming on her path to the bathtub, she drew the plastic shower curtain to the side and rose one foot after the other to rest them onto its cold, porcelain floor. She bent down to turn on the water and adjusted the temperature to her liking before pulling up the knob on the tap to redirect the water to the shower head above her. Her knees straightened as she rose to meet the hot spray and she raked her fingers through her hair, pausing for a moment to allow the beads of water to pelt her face. She turned her back to the stream and reached for her body wash. She paused for a moment to glare at her outstretched hand, or more specifically, the thin, gold band on her finger. A humourless chuckle escaped her lips as she thought about how the condition of the ring resembled her marriage. It was dull and scratched, and if she took it off, she would see that the perfect, circular shape it was once in was now bent and compressed around her finger. Bent, scratched and dull – the story of her life.

They had met when she was seventeen. Her powers had only recently manifested and she was living at the Brotherhood boarding house. One accidental touch told her that Mystique and Irene had been the ones to deceive her to keep the X-Men from getting to her first. Feeling hurt and used, she ran away. By hitching rides, she made it as far as Michigan before she met Augustus "Gus" Richter. He noticed her outside a little cafe as she tried to use the heat from her coffee to warm herself up. Her appearance was rough to say the least: her clothes were ripped and stained in some places, bits of stringy hair spilled out of the opening of her drawn hood. One look at her face told him that she hadn't seen a real bed or completely filled her belly in a long time. He bought her a sandwich, introduced himself, and, as they say, the rest is history. In the beginning, he was a sweet, doting boyfriend, and she felt like she was living a fairy tale. After about a year, traces of the real Augustus Richter began to surface. It was about that time that he suggested they elope. Like any young, impulsive girl with no grown-up guidance, she eagerly agreed and became Anna Marie Richter.

After finishing with her shower she stepped out and proceeded to dry her hair. The door provided enough of a sound barrier that the hum of the blow dryer would not wake her sleeping husband. At this point though, she doubted that anything would wake him. She used to wonder why he was always so tired after sex. Eventually it occurred to her that the combination of natural exertion and having to use his powers to turn hers off must be taxing. She pulled her hair back into a tight pony-tail, letting the shorter, white pieces in the front fall around her face. She applied a light layer of concealer and powder to camouflage the signs of wear on her face and stained her lips with a deep, dark red lipstick, finishing it all off with a quick swipe of mascara.

Body still devoid of clothing, she stepped out of the bathroom, into the dimly lit bedroom and toward her dresser. She pulled on a long-sleeved, green shirt with a snug fit and plunging neckline, followed by a simple, fitted, black pair of pants. Taking the black, leather gloves off the dresser, she pulled them on her hands, over her ring. She'd learned in three years as a diner waitress and the last eight months as a bar waitress that although most male customers don't actively try to get into your pants, most give higher tips if they think they have a chance. Pulling on her shoes, she turned to leave the apartment. She took one last look at the sleeping man in the bed. He lay on his front, the side of his head smashed up into the pillow. His short, blond hair was mussed and his body was still exposed. She carefully pulled the blankets up from around his feet and covered him up before gathering up her purse, keys and jacket and walking out the door.

She fastened the last two buttons on her coat as she stepped out into the brisk air. The bar was only about a ten minute walk from the apartment, which was much better than the thirty minute bus ride to the diner she used to work at. The pay was also better, and the atmosphere of the place fit her style of dress a little more than the diner did. There wasn't a real uniform she had to wear. The only requirement was that she had to look reasonable put together. So, no short skirts, or skimpy tops that would make her gloves look completely out of place. Besides, a low cut top and a flirty smile sometimes got her a little further with some of the customers than her mini-skirt wearing co-workers. The regulars loved her southern charm and sharp wit and she quickly became a favourite, which was good for her, financially speaking.

"Marie! Sweetheart!" she heard Lou, one of the aforementioned regulars, call out to her. "Wanna tell that good-for-nothing bartender to pick up the pace a little? He's got some thirsty customers waiting." Rodney, said bartender and owner of the bar, might have been insulted if it was anyone but Lou. The old guy loved to instigate good natured banter with the staff, so Rodney just continued to fill his other orders.

"Sorry shugah," she slightly exaggerated her accent (it was a key part of her charm after all), "my shift ain't started yet. But as soon as Ah clock in, Ah'll be sure to bust his balls for ya." She punctuated her statement with a wink. She heard Lou laugh as she walked through the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. Her fingers worked the dial on her locker and pushed up on the lever to release the door. She hung up her coat and her purse and brought out a black half-apron before tying it around her waist. Tucking a notepad and pen into one of the front pockets, she shut her locker and gave the dial another quick spin before making her way out behind the bar.

"Hey Rodney," she greeted.

"Hi Marie," he responded, meeting her at the till. "Hope you're ready to work 'cause it looks like we're going to have another busy night." He counted some small bills and change and marked the amounts on a sheet of paper before handing the money over to her.

"What's different from every other Friday night?" she asked, shoving the money into the front of her apron and signing the sheet.

"Suzie's sick and I couldn't get a hold of anyone to replace her. I'm still trying, but as of right now, it's just you and Darla. If I don't hear from Allison in the next half hour, then maybe I can at least get Jason in to help work the bar so I can help you two out on the floor for a bit."

Marie put a hand on his shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry shugah, we'll make it work."

"I know you will."

She picked up a tray and sauntered out onto the floor, adopting that sassy, southern belle persona that had the customers eating out of her hands. Rodney sighed as he watched her get to work. She was a sweet kid who reminded him of his own daughter. But while his daughter was a couple years older and in college, Marie was twenty-one and married to, in his opinion, an asshole. He'd only met the guy a couple of times, but it was enough to know that he wasn't good for her. It also didn't take a genius to figure out that her "loving" husband was the reason Marie occasionally walked with a slight limp, or tried to hide a wince when someone placed a hand on her back or arms. He'd tried to talk to her about it in a roundabout way before, but she would always just tell him that her situation was different and that he wouldn't understand. Eventually, he settled on keeping an eye on her every night she worked and sent a silent "thank-you" to the man upstairs every time she returned to work.

~oOo~

By the end of her shift, Marie was exhausted. There were a few patrons who needed some extra encouragement to go home, so all of the closing duties got pushed back. She stood in front of her open locker and counted the tip money she'd made tonight. Grinning at the good haul she counted out a few bills and put the rest in her wallet. She reached into the back of the top shelf of her locker and pulled out a zippered pouch. She opened it to reveal a substantial stack of bills. Placing the money she set aside into the pouch, she closed it up, put it back onto the top shelf of her locker, and threw her apron over it. It was risky to keep that much money in her locker, but she really had nowhere else to keep it. About a year ago, Marie began to take a little of the tip money she earned every night and put it away. _Just in case,_ she told herself. In case of what? She either wasn't sure, or she didn't want to admit what it could be.

She waved to Rodney and bid him goodnight as she stepped out into the dark, early morning. When she turned her head to face the direction she was walking in, she was halted by the sight of Gus' car. Her brow knitted as she approached the vehicle. He rolled down the window and Marie's breath hitched at the sight of his face.

"Get in," he bit out.

Obediently, she walked to the passenger side and climbed into the car. He stomped on the gas, causing the tires to squeal, and raced away.

"Where were you?" he ground out.

"What do you mean? I was at work, you saw me leave the building…"

"What I mean is what the fuck were you doing at work so late?"

_Seriously?_ she thought, feeling a little indignant. But fear got a hold on her voice and she stammered out, "It was a busy night and we were down one girl. I couldn't just leave them to …"

"Do I look stupid to you Marie? If that's the case then why was there only two of you leaving the bar?" he cut her off.

"Darla just left five or so minutes before we did. I was just getting my things while Rodney got ready to lock up. Honestly Gus, what do you think was happening?"

"I don't know, you tell me," his voice was pure venom.

"Oh come on!" she was angry now. For a man who constantly reminded her that he was the only one she could touch, he could really be irrationally jealous. "You know that I couldn't even if I wanted to!" The car came to an abrupt stop. She realized that they were home.

"And tell me _dear_, do you want to?" he forcefully opened the car door and climbed out.

She did the same and slammed the door. "Of course not!"

"Watch your damn tone! I have every right to be angry when it's passed three-thirty and I wake up to find my wife still isn't home."

"Oh, for the love of…" she stomped off to the building entrance and jogged up the stairs to their floor.

He caught up with her when she reached the landing. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To bed! It's been a long night and I do _not_ have the energy to get into it with you right now."

He roughly grabbed her arm, "Well I'm not finished with you. Now tell me the truth about what you were doing."

"What the hell have I done to lose your trust? Huh?" she spat at him. "You wanna know what I was doing? I was mopping the floor, wiping tables, kicking out drunken stragglers... all things that are part of my job!"

"Oh yeah? Well if it's all so innocent like you say, then why didn't you call to say you were going to be late?"

"I didn't want to piss you off by waking you…"

"Stop giving me excuses!" he shouted and roughly shoved her back as he began to stalk toward their suite.

For Marie, it all happened in slow motion. She stepped back to gain her footing only to find there was nowhere for her foot to go. She must have made some kind of noise because Gus turned around and tried to reach her before she fell. Her arms went up over her head in an attempt to protect it. She felt the corner of each step hit various other areas of her body as she went down. Gus' voice was muffled, but she was sure he was calling her name.

~oOo~

When she woke up, she realized that she was in her own bed. Her whole body ached – something she was made very aware of when she tried to move. Immediately, Gus was at her side.

"Marie?" he placed a hand on the side of her head. "Oh thank God," it came out as a hoarse whisper. The red around his eyes told her he'd been crying. "I was so worried… I thought I… I didn't mean to…." He pressed his lips together while regaining his composure. "How do you feel?"

_Like hammered shit, thanks to you,_ was the first response that came to mind, but she thought better of it. "Sore," she said instead.

"Yeah, I bet." His lips quirked up slightly. "You took a nasty spill there. I didn't know what to do… I mean it's not like I could have taken you to the hospital with your powers and all. There's no guarantee that they'd let me be near enough to turn them off."

_How convenient for you._ She knew what he was saying was true, but the bitter thought pushed its way to the front of her mind. "Yeah, I know," was her vocal response.

"You made me so angry there, that I just kind of lost control. Promise that next time, you'll try to keep your temper so that I can keep mine. I mean, I don't ever want to worry about losing you again." His thumb lightly brushed her cheek and his smile widened slightly.

"I promise," her voice was small. Marie's stomach clenched and she fought with everything inside of her to control her facial expression. _Was that some kind of backwards apology?_ she thought. His voice and his face were filled with genuine concern for her, but Gus had just put the blame on _Marie_ for losing his temper and pushing her (intentionally or not) down the stairs. A small part of her was angry, but a much larger part of her was afraid as she realized that all of his apologies made a point to blame her for his angry outbursts. How did she not see it before? All of her previous injuries were mostly minor. Sure there were times she swore she'd fractured or bruised her ribs, or she'd have a hard time walking for a day or two after landing the wrong way when he pushed her toward a wall or onto the floor, but most of the time…. She stopped herself. _What am I thinking! My husband has given me bruised and fractured ribs and it's no big deal?_ Had she been so blinded by his ability to touch her that she just forgave every action that most would consider completely unforgivable. And if she forgives him now? What's next? The next time he tosses her down the stairs she might not be so lucky. But what will he do if she refuses to forgive him?

"Marie?"

She broke out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice.

"Are you alright? You spaced on me there. I checked your head and I didn't find any bumps, but…"

"No, no honey, I'm fine, really."

He smiled again and brushed his hand over her forehead. "If you're sure. Look, I already called Rodney and told him you weren't feeling well. He asked what was wrong, and I told him you caught some kind of twenty-four hour stomach bug. He said he'd try calling you later to see if you think you'll be up to going to work tomorrow." He rose to his feet. "I'm going to go get some food. Do you want anything?"

"No thanks, I'm not really hungry right now."

"Well, I'll make sure there are some leftovers just in case you're hungry later." He leaned over and lightly pressed his lips against hers. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, offering a weak smile. The words somehow felt weird on her tongue now. She waited until she heard the apartment door close and lock before releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding. She tried sitting up, much to her body's protest. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she carefully stood up. Once she was confident that her legs would support her, she took a few hesitant steps toward the bathroom. She flicked on the light and reached for the medicine cabinet, taking out a bottle of ibuprofen. She pushed down and twisted the child-proof cap and shook two tablets into her palm. Having replaced the cap on the bottle, she filled a cup with water and swallowed her pills. Her gaze stopped on her reflection, noticing the minor scratch and bruise on her cheekbone. She removed her shirt and examined the new handprint and various other bruises that littered her arms and the right side of her torso. She turned her body and tried to see her back in the mirror. It was also covered in purple splotches. Pulling her shirt back on, she slid her pants down to check the bruising on her legs. She lifted her pants back onto her waist and ran her fingers along her scalp.

What if she hadn't been able to protect her head when she fell? What if she had damaged her spine? She would be dead, or, at the very least, paralyzed. What will happen the next time he gets angry? Every time he hits her, or throws her into a wall she runs the risk serious injury. Why does she forgive him every time? For the kisses and hugs that come when they make-up? For sex that she doesn't even enjoy? For a love she's not sure she feels anymore or perhaps never truly felt?

She looked at her face in the mirror as if really seeing herself for the first time. She deserved a lot more than what Gus was giving her. She didn't have to put up with or bear the brunt of his violent hissy fits. So what if she can't touch right now? He somehow learned to control his power. Who says that she's not capable of control? As long as she stays where she is she'll never find out. Four years ago, she made the mistake of trusting Augustus Richter, and he's been controlling her life ever since. Even the name she goes by was his choice. Growing up, she'd always gone by Anna. When she met Gus and introduced herself as Anna Marie, he began calling her Marie for short. Even when she'd correct him, he'd reply by saying he liked Marie better. Eventually, she just gave in; as she did with everything else he wanted. Well, it was time to put cowardly, insecure Marie to bed, and bring Anna, the girl who wouldn't let the big kids push her around, back to life. She knew what she needed to do.

She moved back into the bedroom. The ibuprofen was working because it was a little less painful to move. Just as she sat back down on her side of the bed, the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Marie!" it was Rodney. "Is everything alright? Gus called to say that you weren't well," he couldn't mask the concern in his voice. He didn't believe Gus for a moment and Anna knew it. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"I'm okay Rodney. I don't know yet if I'll be able to make it to work tomorrow, but will you be around during the day?"

"Yeah, I mean I should be. Why?"

"I might need your help tomorrow, but I'm not sure yet."

The line was quiet for a moment before he answered, "You know I'm always ready to help a friend."

"Thanks Rod, you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

"No problem, Marie. You just take care of yourself, you hear?"

"I will, don't worry."

~oOo~

"Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?" he asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

"I'll be fine! I'm just a little sore. It's nothing a little over-the-counter pain pill won't fix. Besides, you missed work yesterday to look after me," she urged him.

"Well, okay, but promise you'll call if you need me."

"Deal. Besides, I plan to sleep on and off all day, I don't think I'll need anything."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled at him and stepped back as he walked through the door. She moved beside the window and waited for his car to drive away. Her body relaxed as his car turned the corner and she dashed for the closet. Digging out a duffel bag, she began to toss some clothing into it before moving to the bathroom and packing her essential toiletries and the bottle of ibuprofen. She opened up her purse and fished out her wallet to see if he'd taken the cash. She grinned when she saw that he forgot to take it. Stuffing her wallet back into her purse, she got dressed and called Rodney.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Rodney, I need you to do me a big favour."

"Uh, sure, anything."

"I need you to go into my locker at work at bring me a pouch from the top shelf. I've been putting away some cash and keeping it there. I need it now."

"No problem," Rodney's voice came back more relaxed and almost relieved. He knew what she was doing, and although he was going to miss having her around, he would rest easier knowing that she's not anywhere near that husband of hers.

Anna gave him the combination and the address of the bank and ended the call. After hanging up with Rodney, she called a cab.

She stood up and was about to grab her things and walk out the door when she stopped to look at the wedding band on her left finger. What she once thought was a symbol of love and commitment between her and Gus, she now saw as only a link in the chain that held her prisoner from her own life. Just the act of sliding the ring off her finger felt so liberating. She held it between her fingers for a moment before setting it down on the hutch, and closing the door on her old life, hopefully forever.

~oOo~

Butterflies filled her stomach as the taxi pulled up to the bank. Rodney wasn't here yet, and for a moment she was worried he wouldn't come. "Keep the meter running," the told the cab driver as she got out of the car and walked into the bank. Gus had refused to allow her to withdraw money from their bank account, and up until this point, the only reason she obeyed was that she was afraid of what he might do to her. However, he did give her the account number so that she could deposit her cheques._ It was probably looking a little suspicious to always be depositing cheques for a wife they've never seen_, she thought. It wasn't terribly busy in the bank, and Anna was thankful for that. She walked up to the teller and asked for a balance before withdrawing roughly half of the money from the account. Although the thought to drain him dry did cross her mind, she decided it wouldn't be safe to carry too much cash with her. Fifteen hundred dollars, plus whatever she had in her wallet and what Rodney was bringing her would do for now. She thanked the teller and walked out of the bank. She was relieved to find Rodney waiting outside for her.

"So, you doing what I think you're doing?" he asked, handing her the pouch. His eyes stopped briefly on the mark on her cheek before meeting her eyes again.

"Yeah, looks like it," she smiled sadly at him. "Thanks, by the way… for everything."

He waved his hand, "I didn't do anything. I was lucky to have a good employee like you. We're all going to miss you, but I'm glad to see you've finally come to your senses about him."

"Yeah, well, it took me long enough," she said casting her eyes downward, then back up to meet his.

"Better late than never." He smiled at her. "Do you know where you're going?"

She shook her head. "Nope, I'm just gonna go to the airport and take the first available flight to wherever it takes me."

"Just promise to call once in a while, so I know you're okay."

"I promise."

He sighed, "Take care Marie."

"Anna," she said. At his confused expression she explained, "My name's Anna Marie. Before I met Gus, I went by Anna."

Rodney nodded in understanding. "Alright, then… take care Anna."

"You too." She smiled and made her way to the waiting cab.

Rodney stood and watched as it drove away. _Good luck kid,_ he thought. _You're long overdue._

~oOo~

Anna leaned her head back on her seat. The ball of nerves and excitement had planted itself in her gut and refused to be tamed. The first plane out with an open spot happened to go to New York City. She found it a little funny that somehow fate would take her back near the place where her whole messed up life started. _Well, if I'm going to start over, I might as well do it at the beginning,_ she thought. She was still feeling anxious though. Partially because she didn't really have much of a plan for what to do when she arrived in New York, and partially because she half expected to find Gus waiting for her when she landed to knock her out and drag her back home. _No_, she tried to expel the thought from her mind;_ I'm not going to live my life in fear because of him._

When the pilot's voice announced their arrival, Anna closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It may have sounded cliché, but this really was the first day of the rest of her life. All at once, it came to her. The first thing she would do is find a job and a place to live. Once she was established and managed to save some money, she would file for divorce and sever the rest of her ties with Augustus Richter. And maybe, once she was able to save some more money, she would change her last name, just to be rid of him for good. Yes, Marie was definitely gone for good, and Anna, who once earned the nickname "Rogue" for her no-fear attitude was making a comeback.


	2. Hide and Seek

**Hi again! So the inspiration just keeps coming and this story is just begging to be written. Even though I haven't gotten a huge response from this story, I think I'll wind up finishing it just because it seems to be bombarding my brain right now, and I don't think I'll be able to concentrate on ****Rock Bottom**** until the ideas run dry on this one. You may notice that some of the general info about this story has changed. It's looking like this is going to be containing a bit of ROMY. How much? Not sure yet. But as of right now I'm thinking they're going to be making a connection and he's going to play a substantial role in much of the action. As always, honest feedback is always appreciated. If you think it sucks, tell me why (I won't get offended, honest!) and where you think I can improve.**

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Hide and Seek**

It wasn't especially late by the time Anna landed in New York, but she was exhausted and her body ached. She managed to find a cheap room for the night and decided to rest a little while she laid out her plans for the next day. The first thing she needed to do was find a job. After that, she'd find an apartment nearby. She tossed her duffel bag and purse on the bed and gingerly lay down next to them. If there was any doubt before that her ribs were at least bruised, there was none now. It was as if the adrenaline high of the last couple of days had suddenly worn off and she could feel every single bruise on her body at once. Taking a deep breath, she willed the pain away and sat up. There was a computer in the lobby with internet access for guests to use. If it was available, she'd use it to search for work. If not, then she'd buy a newspaper from the gift shop and start with that. _But first, I need a shower,_ she thought as she began to feel the day's grime on her skin.

With some effort, she rose to her feet and made her way to the tiny bathroom near the entrance. Once she disrobed, she took a look at her black and blue self in the mirror. She ran her fingers along the hand-shaped bruise on her arm. Her face crumpled and tears began to pour uncontrollably from her eyes. A torrent of emotion spilled over her as her body racked with sobs. Anger: for the man who made her feel worthless and deserving of the pain he inflicted on her. Sadness: for the four years of her life she wasted with him. Fear: because she'd never been on her own before and she didn't know what to expect. Shame: for being too stupid to know better and letting it all happen in the first place. She sucked a breath in through her tight throat and lungs and held it for a moment while she composed herself. She blew the tension out and met her own eyes in the mirror. "Never again," she whispered, staring into those dull, green eyes that had yet to find their light again. Her eyes moved across her face at the bruise on her cheek that had gotten slightly darker as it healed; at the white wisps of hair around her face that probably better reflected her inner age, rather than her physical one; at her full, pale lips that practically blended in with the rest of the fair skin on her face; at the slightly sunken cheeks that she thought were more from a starved soul than a starved body; and at the bluish-gray shadows that lurked under her eyes. "Never, ever, again," small bits of her voice cracked their way through the whispered tones. She pushed off the sink and turned toward the bathtub. It was time to break through his hollow, shell of a person she allowed herself to become. Anna, "the Rogue" was clawing her way back, and she'd be damned if snivelling Marie was going to push her down again.

~oOo~

Anna took one more glance around the hotel room to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything. Her job search last night was a little disappointing, but when she really thought about it, it wasn't all that surprising. The job market was thin to begin with. Finding some place that was willing to hire someone without their high school diploma was a little more difficult. She managed to find a few bars and pubs looking for waitresses but she would have to travel a little ways. Deciding to set off early, she'd showered, dressed and covered the bruise and dark circles on her face as best as she could before calling a cab to take her to the bus depot. Thankfully, the ibuprofen she took earlier was finally kicking in, so it was easier not to hobble around like a ninety-five-year-old woman. She pushed her shoulders back and down, and straightened her back. _Here goes nothing,_ she thought as she marched, as confidently as she could, out of the room and down to the lobby to check out.

"Hello, what's this?" he mumbled to himself as he watched a familiar figure toss a bag into the back of a taxi cab from across the street. She opened the car door and raised her head to look in both directions before climbing in, giving him a good view of her face. Not that he needed one; her hair was a dead giveaway. It was longer and waved slightly near the bottom, but there was only one young girl he'd ever known to have a white shock of hair around her face. He began to flick the flint of his lighter in one hand, while drawing his cell phone out of his pocket with the other. He dialled his employer's number and waited for the other end to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Avalanche, old bean, is the big boss lady around?"

"She is, but I don't think she'll be too impressed when I tell her what you called her."

"Oh, I don't think she'll mind given the fact that I've got some very important information for her," he drawled out, lips twisting up into a grin. There was a moment of silence before a new voice bombarded his eardrum.

"This had better be good Pyro," she ground out.

"I'd be willing to wager that you'll rather like the little discovery I've made."

"Well? Spit it out already! I don't have time for your games," Mystique was getting impatient.

"Well, I was sitting at a little café that happened to be across the street from a hotel, enjoying a coffee and the daily news. I happened to notice a young woman get into a cab. And I remember thinking, 'My, my, isn't she a sight for sore eyes'…"

"Get to the point!"

"Well, aren't we impatient," he grinned a little wider. He was going to string her along and milk it for all it was worth. Once he dropped this bomb on her, she'll forget all about pummelling him later. He wasn't sure what her interest in Rogue was, but she had spent the last four years looking for her and often took her frustrations out on her lackeys when yet another search came up empty. "As I said, the woman was very familiar. After all, how many young adults do you know have brown hair with two streaks of white in the front?" He heard her gasp on the other end and bit back a chuckle. "Yup, it appears that you're little Rogue has resurfaced after her extended absence."

"Do you know where she might be going?" Mystique fought to compose herself.

"No, but if she's in the state, she won't be too hard to track down."

"Call me the moment you get any leads. Understand?"

"Right-o boss."

Mystique did her best to keep from slamming the receiver down. Her brain was processing a mile a minute. She was back. Her daughter was back after seemingly having fallen off the planet. Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice invading her ears.

"What was that about?" Lance asked.

"It appears that Pyro has stumbled upon someone I've been seeking out for a long time."

"Rogue? In Bayville?" Lance's eyes widened. He was sure they'd never see her again after she freaked out the night she discovered Mystique's secrets.

"In New York City, but she might be on the move. Pyro saw her getting into a cab in front of a hotel. She must have just arrived within the last few days," Mystique's mind was churning while she was talking. She was mostly thinking out loud with the last statement she made.

"What are you going to do?"

"Pyro was right when he told me that she won't be hard to track as long as she's in the state. I'm going to try to find out where she's headed." With that she abruptly turned around and walked up the stairs. She needed to tell Destiny, that is, if she didn't already know.

~oOo~

The bus ride was long, and by the end of it, Anna wasn't sure she'd be able to get up out of her seat. She sat and waited until most of the passengers filed off the bus; both because she didn't want anyone to accidently jostle her injuries, but also because she didn't want to wind up touching someone by mistake. It had been years since she'd used her powers. If she went anywhere, besides work, she was mostly always with Gus. He would turn off her powers out in public sometimes so that she wouldn't have to endure an accidental brush of skin from a stranger. From what she remembered about the experience of absorbing someone, the word unpleasant was a complete understatement. Violent mind-rape would probably more aptly describe the feeling. She was not ready to deal with her powers yet. Later, when everything else settled down, then she could focus on controlling her abilities.

Having finally left the bus, she held her purse and her duffel bag close. Her whole life was now contained in a travel bag and a fashion accessory; she couldn't afford to lose either of them. She briskly walked through the bus terminal and into the ladies' room to freshen up. Her hair and makeup wasn't in too bad of shape, but could use a touch-up. Her clothes were a little wrinkled, but they wouldn't be much better in her bag. She sighed and proceeded to fish her cosmetic bag from her purse. She washed her face, careful not to get her shirt wet, put on some fresh deodorant, and re-applied her makeup. Once she was mostly satisfied that her dark circles and the bruise on her cheek were adequately covered, she dabbed her favourite red lip stain on her lips and swiped a coat of clear gloss over top. She dusted her eyes with a neutral eye shadow, and brushed a couple of coats of mascara onto her lashes. She stood back in the mirror to give herself a final once over. A quick spritz of perfume, and she was ready to find one of the pubs on her list.

~oOo~

He furiously paced in the apartment. _How could she do this to him? After all he's done for her! After all this time together, to just leave without a word! That ungrateful little slut!_ He swiped his arm across the side table, dumping the lamp over to join the various other broken objects and upturned furniture on the floor. To top it all off, she had taken half of his money, and those incompetent bank tellers let her. So what if her name was on the account? Had they ever seen her withdrawing money before? No, it was always him. She deposited her paycheques and he was responsible for taking out money for the week. He had tried calling the airline to see if an Anna Marie Richter boarded a plane, but they gave him some bullshit story about privacy issues. She was his wife damn it! He had a right to know where she was going! Still the representative held firm and eventually just hung up on him.

An enraged cry rumbled from his throat as another piece of furniture found itself upended. Then he saw it on the floor amid the debris: a shiny, gold hoop. An eerie calm washed over him as he bent down to pick it up. As he held it between his forefinger and thumb, determination replaced the fury coursing through him. If that bitch thought she could keep what is rightfully his away from him, she had another thing coming. He was going to find her and remind her of their vows. _'Till death do us part_… As far as Augustus Richter was concerned, his dear wife only had two choices in the matter, and either way, he'd be happy to oblige.

~oOo~

She took a deep breath before pushing the door open. The pub seemed to be lit solely by the hanging, stained glass lamps above the pool tables and dart boards. There were a few customers scattered around between the bar and the tables, but otherwise it was pretty empty (which was no surprise considering it was the middle of the afternoon). She spotted a man behind the bar, arranging glasses on a shelf from a plastic dishwasher tray. Making sure her chin was up, she walked over to the bar. "Excuse me sir, I'm here to inquire about the waitress job."

He turned around and placed the empty tray on the bar top. "Is that so? I only posted that ad yesterday, I wasn't expecting a response so soon." He gave her a critical once-over. "You bring a resume or anything?"

Her chest tightened. She hadn't thought of that. She wasn't even sure she would have been able to make one in such a short time. "Uh, no sir, I don't. I've just moved here and I don't quite have everything settled yet."

She was doing a decent job of staying calm, but he could tell that he caught her off guard. "You have any experience?"

"Yes sir, I do. Three years in a diner and a little less than a year in a small, but busy bar. I know my bar experience doesn't seem like much, but I'll bust my butt. My old boss would vouch for me." She closed her mouth when she realized she had almost started to ramble.

He noticed the rough spot on her cheek where her makeup had built up slightly. On second glance, he could see the slight purple undertones. He decided she'd covered it well if it took him a bit to notice. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

She had to think quick. "I've never had any sort of run-in with the law and I try not to associate with people who do, if that's what you mean."

He almost smirked. _Smart girl,_ he thought. She was probably just some runaway trying to make it on her own, but he had to make sure. His eyes dropped down to her arms and he motioned his head toward them. "Roll up your sleeves."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to take a look at the insides of your arms." She carefully rolled her sleeves up and held out her arms. He leaned in closer to see better and she pulled away. "I'm not going to hurt you, just checking for track marks. I don't hire drug addicts."

"Sorry, I just… don't like to be touched."

"I suppose it would explain the gloves." Satisfied, he nodded at her and she quickly covered her arms again. "Tell you what, you be here tonight for seven. It's typically not terribly busy this early in the week, but it can fill up. If it looks like you can keep up, then the job is yours."

"Thank you sir, I promise I won't disappoint you."

"Well that remains to be seen. I don't do any sort of dress code here. I just ask that my girls don't show too much skin, but I don't think you'll have that problem. What you've got on now would be just fine to work in. I'll see you at seven – don't be late." He punctuated his last statement with a point of his finger.

"I'll be here, thanks again," she said, turning to leave the bar. She could barely contain the happiness bubbling up in her belly. First try and might already have a job. _You don't have it yet, so keep your head,_ she told herself. She made her way back to the bus terminal to get her things from the locker she rented. She would need to find another place to stay tonight. She still had money left, but it would be gone soon if she had to stay in hotels all the time. If all went well tonight, then maybe she could start apartment hunting tomorrow.

~oOo~

Most of the time, Remy LeBeau was happy that he joined the X-Men. He was grateful that he didn't have to pull jobs for his good-for-nothing father, or be some mutant madman's lackey. He was grateful for his teammates who over the years have become a sort of surrogate family. He was even grateful for the missions and training sessions that ensured is life was never dull. But some days, living in a house full of mutant children whose hormones were raging at full speed was just too much to bear. All of the noise and ridiculous antics at the dinner table had now spilled into the rec room where Remy and Logan were trying to relax with a friendly game of pool. After being accidently bumped by one of said hormonal teenagers, and missing yet another shot, Wolverine threw down his pool cue and growled.

"C'mon Cajun, I need a drink," he grunted as he stalked out of the room.

"I couldn't agree more, mon ami," Remy said, following close behind Logan.

~oOo~

_Bingo,_ Raven Darkholme couldn't believe her luck as she watched the young woman enter the café. She had really just come here for a cup of coffee, but she wound up getting much more. There was no doubt in her mind that it was her. Her appearance obviously changed since she'd last seen her; she'd (thankfully) dropped the whole "teen goth" image and even seemed to lighten-up a little in her interactions with others. Gone was the awkward teenager; in its place was a friendly (if not a little flirty), personable, grown, woman. But despite these positive changes, Raven could see there was still something dark following her. Like an invisible burden weighing on her shoulders. Like Irene had predicted. Her maternal instincts begged her to take the girl in her arms and protect her from these demons in her shadow. The rational side of her remembered that they did not part on good terms and knew that she would not be receptive to any sort of affection from her. But at least now she knew where her daughter was. And if what Destiny's vision foretold does come true, she would be able to protect her. She watched discreetly as Anna tensed for a moment and looked around the shop before walking out the door. _Good girl,_ she thought. _Keep those instincts sharp. You're going to need them._


	3. In the Eyes of Destiny

**Thank you so much to those who have reviewed and added this story to their favourites/alerts! As much as I enjoy writing for its own sake, it feels even better to know that someone else is enjoying what I've written. I hope you continue to enjoy it with every chapter I complete. **

** As always, feel free to give me some feedback on this latest instalment. Whether you love it or hate it, I wanna hear about it :) Honest criticism only helps me get better.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: In the Eyes of Destiny**

She sailed between the tables in her section, tray held high and a smile on her face. The owner, Jerry, had been right; it wasn't too busy, but it was enough to keep her on her feet. It was a good thing too – her body still ached with all of the extra movement, but she didn't dare let on. She had taken something during her first break to help dull the screaming in her ribs. If there was any night that she needed to at least look at one-hundred percent, it was tonight. So she kept her head up, and faked the spring in her step as best as she could; it seemed to be fooling most people.

Bars like this one were mostly all the same, she figured. You had your regular guys who came for a quick drink after work or to celebrate some special occasion, then there were the ones who tried to make her squirm with vulgar comments and suggestions (those were the most fun to put into place), and then there were the ones who were there practically every night because for one reason or another, they didn't want to be at home. She'd used the same formula she'd used back at Rodney's bar: a smile here, a wink there, and an accent exaggerated just enough to be cute. So far, it seemed to be paying off.

"All right, Ah got two scotch on the rocks," she placed each drink in front of the appropriate customer, "one screwdriva, and a double whiskey sour for the birthday boy." She smiled and winked as she put the last drink down. "Anythin' else Ah can get for y'all?"

"How about a kiss for the birthday boy?" Whiskey sour-boy winked and angled his face up for her.

She laughed good-naturedly and blew him a kiss as she walked to tend to the other tables. The man pretended to catch it as his friends laughed at Anna's smooth decline. She looked ahead to find a pair of men setting themselves up around a pool table on the other end of the room. One was tall, lean, but the well-defined muscles on his arms suggested he was probably not one to tangle with. The other was older, shorter, and although just as strong-looking, was more on the stalky side. From this distance, the shorter one looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.

They hung up their jackets on the nearby hooks and selected their cues. "I'll get it this time. If the waitress comes by, order me a beer," Logan said.

"What kind of beer you want?" Remy asked as he stared down the end of a cue.

"Don't matter, whatever's on tap," he said as he moved away from the table.

No sooner had Logan left then did Remy see the (very attractive) waitress approach. He'd seen enough bimbo waitresses to know that she was not one of them. One would think the white in her hair would mean she was an older woman, but he almost wondered if she was old _enough_ to work here. As she got closer, he took in her full, cherry lips and deep, emerald eyes, both of which were a stark contrast to her delicate, fair skin. Once she got close enough, Remy was quick on the draw; in one fluid motion he swept up her hand and placed a chaste, but charming kiss on her leather-clad knuckles. "Enchanter, Cherie." He lifted his eyes to meet hers and grinned.

To say that Anna wasn't slightly thrown off her guard would be a lie. Not only did his actions take her by surprise, but his eyes… they were nothing like she'd seen before. She recovered quickly though, and pasted the smile back on her face. She relinquished her hand and, acting as if he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, proceeded with her customary greeting. "Evenin' sugah. What can Ah get for you tonight?" She readied her notepad and pen to receive his order.

Remy quirked an eyebrow, mildly impressed at how his advance seemed to roll right off her back. "My friend will have whatever you've got on tap. An' I'll have bourbon, on the rocks." He watched as she quickly scribbled his order down.

"Comin' right up," she smiled again and sauntered up to the bar.

Remy's eyes stayed glued to her swaying hips until she got lost among the other patrons of the bar. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, but beautiful women were a dime a dozen. There was something different about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Waitress come by yet?" Logan grunted as he set the rack of balls on the table.

"Oui, order's comin' up," Remy replied, picking up the square of blue chalk. "She mus' be new though. Don't think I've ever seen her before."

"Jerry did say he might have found someone to fill the ad he posted yesterday. You wanna break or should I?"

"Be my guest," Remy waved his hand outward. "She's cute, I hope she works out."

Logan shot the cue ball into the triangle of coloured balls, causing them to scatter. "I guess it's too much to hope that you haven't tried hitting on her already."

"Ah monsieur claws, you know me too well." He set up his shot and managed to sink three balls.

"Count on you, Gumbo, to hit on any remotely attractive piece of ass to come within ten feet of you."

Anna was on her way back to the pool table when she noticed the short man had re-joined his friend and their game was underway. Maybe concentrating on the game would keep the taller one from putting so much attention on her. As she got closer though, something clicked in her brain. The stalky one – Wolverine – she remembered him from when she briefly lived with Mystique. He was a member of the X-Men. They had tried to recruit her a few times before she ran away. The memories she got from Mystique revealed that everything she told her about them was a lie. They weren't mutant hunters, like she was told, but just a rival group who did not share Mystique's view on human/mutant relations. Her chest tightened a little. What was she going to do? It was her first night; she couldn't just refuse to serve them. Maybe if she played dumb and pretended she didn't know who he was, he either wouldn't recognize her, or at least assume that she didn't remember him.

"Alright, Ah've got one beer, and bourbon on the rocks," she said as she placed each drink on one of the side tables. "Anythin' else for y'all?"

Remy grinned, "Your name perhaps?"

"Sorry sugah, that's not on the menu tonight." She matched his grin.

His grin didn't falter, "Perhaps another time then chere." He pulled out a twenty and handed it to her. "Keep the change." He winked as he handed it to her.

"Why thank you sir." She turned her attention to Wolverine briefly, "Be sure to holler if y'all need anythin' else," and walked away.

Remy turned to Logan and noticed the bemused expression on his face. "What's up homme? You know her from somewhere?"

"You could say that," he answered. "She used to go by the name Rogue. Cerebro detected her a few years ago when her powers manifested. We went out to help her, but she was such a confused mess, there was no getting through to her. We figured out later that Mystique probably had something to do with it since she showed up to school the following Monday with the Brotherhood boys."

"So, she's one of the bad guys then?"

Logan shook his head, "Scott tried to befriend her a few times at school, saying that she just didn't fit in with the Brotherhood. She never really participated in the trouble the others caused, and even helped rescue Jean when Blob kidnapped her."

"What happened, then? I haven't seen her working for either side. Didn't even know she existed until now."

"That's just it, one day she just stopped coming to school. Rumour has it, she ran away for some reason or another. For a while, Mystique came after us, convinced that we had her."

"Question now is, what's she doing back in Bayville?"

"I dunno, but I think this might be something the professor would want to know about."

"D'accord," Remy downed his drink, "It's a shame I didn't get to finish kicking your ass in pool."

Logan snorted, having chugged back his beer, "What makes you think that was going to happen?"

~oOo~

"I know you don't like it Raven, but if the visions are true, it's for the best."

"How can leaving her with my enemy be the best for her, Irene? She would be the safest here with us!" Mystique slammed her fist on the table.

Destiny sighed, "She's been away from us for all this time, I think she'll be alright for a bit longer. Besides, after the way she parted from us, I highly doubt she'd be willing to accept our help. If anything, we could wind up pushing her further into danger."

Mystique slumped against the back of her chair and closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course Destiny was right. Her visions weren't always one-hundred percent accurate, but most of the time they gave at least good insight into what might happen. Her latest premonition, like all the others, was muddled and very open to interpretation, but one thing was clear: someone or something was coming after Rogue and, if they weren't careful, she could wind up seriously hurt or dead. After searching for her for so long, Mystique had finally found her only to face the possibility of having her ripped away again. A hand on her knee broke through her inner turmoil.

"I know you love her, and you want what's best for her," Irene's gentle voice floated to her ears. "Being apart for so long doesn't change the need to keep her safe. I spent so many years raising her, I couldn't love her more if she was my own flesh and blood, but my visions, and my instincts tell me that _here_ is not the best place for her right now. If my previous visions hold any truth, then she's already been through Hell, and she's climbing her way out as we speak. All we can do is stand by and to what we can to make sure she doesn't get pulled back in." Mystique placed her hand on Destiny's and squeezed it lightly. Destiny's lips turned up into a small smile. "Even if she winds up with the X-Men, then at least we know where she is, and you can always keep a distant eye on her. Once her life settles down, we can try to rebuild our relationship with her."

Although Mystique said nothing, she grudgingly accepted what the precognitive told her. Despite what she wanted, Anna Marie's life was what was important here. She would keep watch from afar and be ready to intervene if those incompetent X-Men fail to keep her daughter out of danger.

~oOo~

Jerry waved Anna over just as the bar was closing up for the night. The bouncers were "encouraging" the last few patrons to leave. It appeared that "Birthday-Boy" and his friends weren't ready for the party to be over yet. She picked up the last of the glasses from the table and jogged over. She couldn't help but hold her breath. This was it: she would find out if she had the job or if she needed to keep looking.

"Let me start by saying that I'm a pretty hard person to impress."

Anna bit her lip in anticipation.

"The way you worked the tables and kept the customers happy, I had a hard time believing that you only just started tonight."

She let the tiniest smile slip.

"So if you're willing, I'd like to hire you on."

"Yes! I mean of course I'm willing," she beamed.

"Now before we talk about your schedule, I have a question for you," he levelled his eyes with hers. "Are you settled anywhere yet?"

"Uh, no sir, I was hoping to go apartment hunting tomorrow."

"Well, tell you what, it's not terribly busy during the week, so why don't you wait to come back on Thursday. That'll give you a couple of days to find a place and then we can discuss a more permanent schedule then."

"Thank you sir."

"Oh and Anna?"

"Yes sir?"

"Enough with this 'sir' business. Just call me Jerry like everyone else."

"Okay s- … Jerry," she grinned sheepishly at the slip.

"You head on now, I'll train you on the rest of the closing duties when you come back."

Anna thanked him and went to the back to get her things. She couldn't keep the smile off her face. All of the fears she had before about not being able to make it on her own didn't weigh on her now as they did just hours earlier. The aches and pains she suffered through tonight were all worth it. She almost skipped out into the street as she began her trek back to the hotel. Tomorrow, she'd get up early and try to find a place… her _own_ place.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a slurred voice behind her, "Hey baby! I'm still waiting for that kiss."

~oOo~

Remy leaned back on his chair, feet propped up on the table, and stared up at the picture displayed on the large screen. It was almost hard to believe that the sexy, sassy waitress had once been this angry, insecure teenage girl. He read her stats:

Name – Unknown

Alias – Rogue

Height – 5' 8"

Approximate weight – 120 lbs.

Age at initial detection – 17

Current age calculated at – 21

Mutant abilities – Absorption of memories, life energy and mutant abilities (if applicable) through skin-to-skin contact. Can use acquired abilities for a short time after contact is made. Contact can leave victim unconscious and/or experiencing extreme weakness and fatigue for an undetermined amount of time. Effects may vary depending on duration of contact.

"Rogue disappeared roughly four years ago," Professor Xavier's voice drew Remy's eyes away from the screen. He rested his elbows on the table in front of him and steepled his fingers. "I thought I might be able to track her down with Cerebro when she used her powers, but the last time on record that she used them was before she went missing."

"I wonder where she's been all this time," Jean said, standing behind a seated Scott with her hand on his shoulder. "And does anyone else think it's a little weird that she hasn't used her powers at _all_ in four years? I mean you'd think that with a mutation like hers there would at least be an accident or two."

"The question is what is she doing back?" Scott asked. His posture straightened a little as he spoke, as if guarding himself for something. "Is she working for someone? Is she affiliated with some other mutant group?"

"From the looks of it," Logan's voice cut in from his spot against the wall, "I'd say she's just trying to get by. I don't know what her reason is for leaving wherever she was, but it looks to me like she's just looking for honest work and a paycheque."

"How can we be sure she's not working for Mystique again?" Kurt asked.

Logan sighed, "I don't have any proof, but my gut says that she's not really working with, or for anyone besides Jerry at the bar."

"I think Logan might be right," Ororo said. "If she were here to work for Mystique again, I don't think she would have revealed herself to us so quickly. Mystique would have known that the pub was a place a few of us frequent and told her to stay away."

"Maybe it's all part of some big plan," Kurt countered.

Charles sighed. It was late and he was sure that most of the people in this room just wanted to be in bed. "Kitty is trying to gain access to the airport security video feed so that she can see where Rogue's flight might have departed from. Perhaps if we can get a name that she was using, we can get a better idea as to what she's doing here. In the meantime, why don't we…"

His words were interrupted by a flash on the screen and the feminine monotone that the computer system was programmed to speak in. "Mutant activity detected. Updating archived file: Rogue."

"Display current location of mutant activity," Charles' head whipped over toward the screen. Remy dropped his feet from the table and leaned in as the map zoomed in on her location.

"That's just about a block away from the pub she was working tonight," Logan grumbled.

Abruptly, Remy stood up and quickly made his way out of the room. His instincts were telling him something was wrong and he needed to get there fast. Logan was close behind him, followed by Scott, who was trying to put together an impromptu game-plan. Remy punched the switch for the garage door and grabbed the keys for the van off its hook. If she was injured, there were medical supplies and a cot in the back. _Why am I so worried about her?_ Because his gut was telling him so, that's why. If there was one thing that Remy LeBeau had learned in his lifetime, it was to trust his gut. It rarely steered him wrong. He climbed into the driver's seat and Logan got in the other side. Scott barely made it in the back before Remy sped off.

~oOo~

Anna's body tensed at the sound of the voice, but she did her best keep her eyes straight ahead and continue on toward her destination as if she didn't hear him. Had it been another day, she might have stood a chance, but she was already injured and in no condition to fight off a drunken pervert.

"Hey! We're talkin' to you! It's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you."

The voices were getting closer and she could hear their hurried footfalls as they jogged to catch up with her. Before she managed to quicken her own pace, a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. She lost her footing and fell to the ground, stifling a cry as searing pain cut across her ribs. She hadn't yet had a chance to regain her composure when large hands hooked under her arms and dragged her up to a standing position. She could feel them pulling her back into the alley and stopped near the wall of a building. She recognized the man as "Birthday-Boy" from the pub.

"Now as I was saying," he leaned his face in close enough for her to smell the sharpness of the alcohol on his breath, "how about that kiss?"

In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea. On some level, she knew that it would only infuriate him and land her in more trouble, but she was sick and tired of being manhandled. She had come to this town to escape this kind of treatment, and she wasn't going to stand for it anymore. Her lips curled up into a sneer before spitting in his face. "Fuck you," she ground out.

His face contorted into a mix of anger and disgust as he wiped his face with his sleeve. "I wasn't gonna go there, but if you insist…" Like an attacking cobra, his hand lurched forward and grabbed her by the chin, squeezing her lips together.

White-hot pain burned through her mind as thoughts, memories and the very essence of his life rushed into her. A shriek erupted from her throat as his hand fell limply from her chin, following the rest of his body to the ground. The two that were holding her stared in shock for a moment while the fourth man called up from his fallen friend's side, "What did you do to him?"

"She's a fucking mutie!" the one on her left shouted. She felt the back of her head hit the brick wall of the building as they shoved her back. She sunk down to the ground, and watched the world fade away.


	4. Safe as Houses

**Hi again! Thanks so much to everyone who continue to support this story and to those who've just recently jumped on board! I really wasn't expecting too much from this one, but you all have renewed my faith in the idea that maybe I'm capable of writing something worth reading.**

**FYI: I have ZERO medical expertise, and my knowledge of any American cities (besides where the shopping mall, Target, and various other box stores are in Grand Forks) , airport surveillance, and public records hacking is NIL. So I hope I managed to fake it enough to make it. If there are any ridiculously glaring errors that need to be fixed, review or PM me with how I should edit it. **

**As always read, enjoy, and leave a little note if you have the time :) **

**Disclaimer: see Chapter 1**

**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Safe as Houses**

The van screeched to a halt when Remy spotted a black, leather purse lying in the middle of the street. He rushed out of the vehicle and jogged toward it, picking it up. He surveyed the area until his eyes landed on a crumpled form in the alley. The purse dropped out of his hand as he crouched down beside her. Lifting his uncovered index and pinkie fingers up and out of the way, he used his gloved middle finger and thumb to brush the hair away from her face. He paused and frowned when he noticed a little bit of blood on the back of her head. He tilted his head to the side and leaned it close to her face, thankful when he felt her breath on his cheek. Moving his head back carefully as to avoid touching her skin, he did a quick once over to check for any other obvious injuries. Logan and Scott were behind him, waiting for a report of any kind.

"She's unconscious but breathin'. There's a little blood on the back of her head, but it don't look major. Prob'ly jus' scraped it against the brick when she hit," Remy said. He looked over his shoulder, and tossed a set of keys at Logan before turning his attention back to Rogue and carefully lifting her up.

"Here, take this, it'll look good on ya," Logan said as he picked up the purse and shoved it at Scott before following Remy back to the vehicle. Scott gave an indignant sneer, but said nothing as he trailed behind the other two.

They placed her on the cot in the back of the van and Remy climbed in back to watch over her while they drove back to the institute. Scott got a hold of Jean via his communicator to let them know they were on their way back and to have the med lab prepped. Logan and Scott climbed in the front, and began the short journey back home.

"Well, whoever did this wasn't looking to rob her," Scott said upon seeing the stack of bills in her wallet.

Logan momentarily glanced at Scott, "What the hell are you doing?"

"We want to know what name she's been going by the last few years. I figured her wallet would be the easiest way to find out." He peered into a few more compartments before sighing dejectedly.

"What? No dice?" Logan smirked.

"What kind of person carries no ID whatsoever with them?"

"The kind of person who's on the run. Question is who or what's she running from?"

"I guess we'll either have to wait for her to tell us herself, or see what Kitty dredges up," Scott zipped up the purse and let it rest on his lap.

The rest of the ride back to the mansion was quiet. Remy couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes from her face. That same feeling was needling at the back of his brain like it did earlier at the bar. There was something different about this girl and God help him; he wanted to find out what it was that had drawn him to her like this. He felt the van slow before coming to a complete stop. Soon after, the back doors opened to reveal Hank and Jean waiting to tend to their patient. He helped place her on the stretcher and then stood back as they wheeled her down to the med lab. "I'm goin' for a smoke," he said to no one in particular while walking toward the doorway.

~oOo~

Jean couldn't believe her eyes. Hank had asked her to undress Rogue and get her in a hospital gown so that they could take some x-rays. She was shocked to find her body littered in big, angry bruises. Given the way she was found, Jean knew there would be some bruising, but this was beyond what she expected to see. The one that sickened her the most was the one on her upper arm. "Hank?" she called to the doctor.

At the slight tremble in her voice, Hank quickly rushed over to see what the matter was. He was momentarily shocked, but quickly went into doctor mode and began examining her body for any other trauma. "Hmm," he muttered as he looked at her arm.

"What is it?"

"See this bruise here," he pointed to a light purple one on her shoulder, "this one is from today. It may look light, but by tomorrow it'll darken considerably. This one however," he pointed to the hand-shaped one on her arm, "is at least a few days old. So are most of these bruises." He motioned for Jean to help lift her so that he could see her back. "These are older ones too; from about the same time as the one on her arm and on the rest of her body."

"What do you think happened?" Jean asked as they lay her back down.

Hank wasn't sure how to say it. Given the shape of the bruise on her arm, he had his suspicions, but he wanted to make absolutely sure before he jumped to any conclusions. "I'm sure there are a few possibilities. Why don't we get those x-rays done? They might tell us some more."

Jean just nodded. She wasn't stupid; she knew exactly what this looked like, but like Hank, she was waiting for the piece of evidence to either completely blow her theory to bits, or to confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

~oOo~

It was after everyone managed to get a few hours of sleep that they found themselves reconvening in the war room to discuss their newly acquired patient. Charles Xavier sat at the head of the table and looked around at his charges. All of the core team was present except Jean. She volunteered to stay in the med lab with Rogue in case she woke up. "Kitty, did you manage to learn any new information during your search?"

"Actually, I did get something. It's only a little, but none of it is what I expected," she said motioning to the papers in front of her. Charles nodded his head for her to continue. "I used facial recognition software to scan through the airport video feeds to see if I could find what flight she came in on. It turns out she only arrived in New York a couple of days ago, so it didn't take long to find. She flew in from Flint, Michigan under the name 'Anna Marie Richter'. I did a little more digging through Flint records and found a, get this, certificate of _marriage_ on file and an open bank account under the names Augustus Richter and Anna Marie Richter. _And_ to top it all off, there was a withdrawal of fifteen-hundred dollars by Anna Marie the same day her flight left Flint for New York."

"She was runnin' alright," Logan mumbled.

"Well, then I guess that further supports what Jean and I suspected after her examination," Hank threw in.

"What do you mean Hank?" Charles's brow furrowed slightly as he turned his head to the blue, furry doctor.

Walking over to the war room computer's control panel, Dr. McCoy typed a series of keystrokes that brought up various photographs and x-ray images on the large monitor. "When I asked Jean to replace her clothing with a hospital gown, we saw her that her body was covered in bruises." He zoomed in on the photos of her torso, legs and back before enlarging the one of her upper arm. "See this," he pointed to the bruise on her shoulder, "this one was inflicted earlier this morning. This one," he brought his finger down to the one lower down on her arm, "is a few days old." He switched to another photo of the same arm, but from a different angle.

A few gasps sounded as each occupant in the room visibly stiffened. "Goddess! That bruise is shaped like a handprint?" Ororo broke the moment of silence.

Hank nodded and pulled up the x-ray images. "Here we see some hairline fractures that are still healing on the ribcage. And here," he moved his had to circle around another area, "we see multiple markings from healed fractures on other ribs and various other areas of the body." He paused for a moment to let the information set in. "Based on the x-rays and medical examination alone, I can't make any definite conclusions. After all, an x-ray from anyone in this room, well except Logan, might look the same given some of the dangerous missions we go on and the injuries that result from them. Combined with Kitty's findings though…" he trailed off and let the others fill in their own blanks.

"Kitty," Scott suddenly spoke, "How old is the marriage certificate on file?"

She shuffled through her papers before finding the requested information. "Mmmm, looks like they got married about three years ago." Kitty looked up and furrowed her brow, "Not to sound shallow or anything, but doesn't Rogue's mutation keep her from touching people? I mean I'm sure there's someone out there who would be willing to look passed the whole no-touching thing, but …"

"Do you think she might have learned to control her powers?" Kurt asked.

Remy shook his head, "If someone touched her while she was attacked, wouldn't you think she'd stop herself from absorbin' them?"

"She could have used it as a defence mechanism," Kitty countered.

"Non," Remy said, "If that's the case, then she'da used it to fend off whoever did that to her." He motioned his head toward the screen. "An' you heard the prof, she hasn't used her powers since she went missin'."

"Gumbo's right," Logan stated. "If she hasn't used them in that many years, why start now? And if she did think it was a viable defence against attackers, why not use them before?"

"Professor?" Scott turned his head to his mentor.

"Perhaps it's best we wait and see what Rogue will tell us herself."

"And if she don't feel like talkin'?" Remy asked.

"Then I guess we continue to investigate."

~oOo~

Rodney was restocking his liquor bottles when he heard a fist slam down on the bar top behind him.

"Where the fuck is Marie?" the fuming man barked out.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Rodney said as he slowly turned around to face him.

"Cut the bullshit! She's been missing for the last few days and I know that you know where she's gone," Augustus ground out between clenched teeth.

"And why would you assume that I would know anything about that?" Rodney met his glare.

"She's missed two shifts in a row," Augustus explained. "Normally you'd call to check up on her if she was even a half-hour late, never mind missing a shift completely. But I haven't heard a peep from you, meaning you know you don't need to be worried about her."

"You know what? You're right, I did know she was leaving," Rodney drawled. "If it means she's away from you, I can't say I'm too upset about it."

"I knew you had something to do with this!" he raged as he reached over and grabbed Rodney's collar from across the bar. "Make this easy on yourself, and tell me where she's hiding, or I swear to God I'll beat the answer out of you if I have to."

"I didn't have anything to do with her decision. She made her own mind up and told me that she was leaving but not where she was going." He swung a glass up and broke it over Augustus' head before shoving him back into a table.

Augustus held the side of his head. "You're lying!" he shouted.

"No, I'm not. Now, I suggest you get the fuck out of here before I call the cops. And I never want to see you set foot in here again."

Augustus got to his feet, and with an enraged shout he turned around and knocked a chair over with his fist before stalking out of the bar. When the door slammed shut, Rodney released a breath he didn't know he was holding. All of a sudden, he wished he did know where Anna was just so he could warn her that her husband was insane with rage and trying to hunt her down. _Wherever you are kid, I hope you're safe and have someone to protect you in case he does find you._

~oOo~

When he was a little boy, his father used to take him fishing. They would spend all morning and a good chunk of the afternoon by the pond waiting for the fish to bite. His mom would pack them a picnic and wave at them while they drove away… _Wait… What? That didn't happen._ She didn't remember her real parents, and she doesn't really remember ever having a father figure in her life. Irene was the one who raised her. But where did that memory come from? Suddenly it all came rushing back to her: the men in in the alley, the surge of someone else's memories stabbing into her brain, and the blackness that followed.

Jean was puttering around the lab when she heard the woman on the bed stir. She dropped the swabs she was restocking and rushed over to the bed. "Rogue? Can you hear me?"

The soft voice that echoed through her ears was somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place it. Her head was pounding, and her eyes almost refused to open at the thought of being assaulted with any form of light. She forced her eyelids to cooperate as they fluttered open, and a blur of red and flesh colour slowly came into focus.

"Rogue? I don't know if you remember me. I'm Jean Grey, from Xavier's Institute."

_Rogue?_ She hadn't heard anyone call her that in a long time. The neurons were beginning to fire again, and Jean's face and voice were connecting with her memory. _Xavier's? What was she doing at the home of the X-Men?_

"Wolverine, Cyclops and Gambit found you unconscious in an alley and brought you here so we could look after you."

She remembered seeing Wolverine at the pub with a friend. Was this friend called Gambit? He wasn't wearing the glasses, so it couldn't have been Cyclops. Her thoughts suddenly stopped and she looked at Jean with full recognition. "Did you just read my mind?" she weakly uttered.

Jean smiled, "I don't need to read your mind to know that you're probably wondering where you are."

Anna nodded, and then grimaced at the pain in her head.

"Is your head hurting? I can give you something for the pain if you like."

"Uh, sure… thanks," she hoarsely replied. When Jean turned around to look through the medicine cabinet, Anna really began to take in her situation. She was here with the people she was once told to consider enemies, receiving care for injuries inflicted from drunken punks on the street. Looking down at the hospital gown she was now dressed in, she knew she'd be questioned later about the bruises. Maybe they'd just assume it was from the attack, if she was lucky. Jean returned with a small cup containing two pain pills, and a cup filled with water.

"Here you go," she said, holding the cups out to her.

Anna hissed in pain as she tried to sit herself up. Her ribs were still healing and were probably jostled when she was pushed down by her attackers.

"Oh, sorry!" Jean put the cups down on the side table. "Let me help you." She helped Anna sit up and when she looked more comfortable, handed her the pills and the water. "It will take a little while for those to kick in, but you should be feeling better soon enough."

They both turned their heads at the swish of the automatic doors. A tall, slim man in a trench coat practically glided in. He folded his arms across his chest and turned the corner of his lips up into a lazy grin. "Well, now… it looks like our sleepin' beauty is finally awake."

~oOo~

Charles Xavier was in his study milling over the recently dissolved meeting. It was clear that Rogue was hiding from someone. One didn't just drain half the money from an account shared with a spouse and hop a plane the same day for no reason. The images Hank showed them only reinforced the idea that she is likely running from her husband, this Augustus Richter. But why would she endure such abuse if she could essentially lay him out with a single touch?

His thoughts were cut off as a black bird landed on the sill of his open window. "If there's something you want, come right out and ask it."

The bird flew in and perched itself on the seat of a leather chair and then morphed into a blue skinned, red haired woman.

"Why are you here, Raven?" Charles asked, calmly.

"I understand that Rogue is here."

"And what exactly gave you that idea?"

"Who do you think dealt with the bastards that attacked her in the alley? Besides, I saw three of your stooges bring her here," she replied with a smirk.

Xavier nodded. "Very well, I assume that you're here because you want to take her back with you then?"

"Don't be a fool Charles," she scoffed. "If I wanted to take her, she would be gone and back home with me before you could even blink. I certainly wouldn't come begging you to let me take her." She stood up, turned her back on him at gazed out the window. "And don't get me wrong, if the situation was different, I would take her in a heartbeat. She belongs with me, where I know she's safe."

"So if you're not here to take her, why are you here, Raven?"

She sighed and turned back around to face him. "To warn you." At Charles' confused expression she continued to explain, "Destiny's been having visions about her. She's in danger and if we can't protect her, she could wind up seriously hurt or even dead. Someone or something is out to get her and whatever it is needs to be stopped. According to the visions, for the best possible outcome, she should stay here with you." Her last statement was tainted with bitterness.

"I understand," Charles nodded. "I'll make sure we do everything we can to keep her safe."

Mystique nodded and pressed her lips together. "How is she Charles?"

"The injuries she sustained after the attack in the alley are relatively minor. But she does have some previous injuries that have raised some disturbing questions."

Mystique's head snapped up to attention. "What do you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, but a medical exam revealed cracked ribs and evidence of a number of previous fractures. A significant portion of her body was covered in bruises that Dr. McCoy suspects are a few days old. We don't know for sure how the injuries were caused, but if Destiny's visions are true, then maybe it's all connected somehow."

Her face was tight with supressed rage. One of Irene's earlier visions that occurred just shortly before Rogue ran away indicated extreme pain and hardship for the young girl. She hated herself for letting her daughter slip away from her, and hated herself even more for being unable to find her. When she got her hands on whoever inflicted those injuries on her Anna Marie, he or she wasn't even going to live long enough to regret it. "I'll see what I can find out," she finally managed to say.

"May I suggest starting with the name Augustus Richter?" It was risky, but if anyone was good at finding information, it was Mystique.

"May I ask why?" she said through clenched teeth.

"Trust me when I say that it's better if you find out for yourself."


	5. Sanctuary

**Hi all! Thanks again for the reviews and the alerts/favourites that keep coming in for this story. Let me just say that I'm not terribly happy with this chapter. It's a little shorter and one of those lame-o parts where you just have to get some business out of the way so that the plot can go on. Hopefully the next chapter will have more interesting interactions (like from our favourite pair of southerners maybe) but I just had to set things up with this chapter. So anyway, love it, hate it, let me know. **

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

**Reconstruct to Deconstruct: Sanctuary**

"Remy, what are you doing here?" Jean crossed her arms and let one hip jut out.

"Jus' here to see if our damsel is still in distress, or if she's feelin' better." His arms fell to his sides and he took a few more steps into the room. Noticing the glare Anna shot in his direction, his grin got a little wider.

Jean rolled her eyes, "Honestly," she sighed. "Remy is there an actually reason why you're here? Because if you're just here to flirt or antagonize…"

"Ac'tlly, the professor asked me to come see if she was awake," he broke her off mid-sentence.

"If that's the case, then why didn't he just call down telepathically?"

Remy shrugged, "Dunno. When the man asks me to do somethin' I don't question it."

"Since when?" Jean raised an eyebrow and levelled her eyes with his.

"Jeannie, Jeannie," Remy threw his arms up and hooked it around her shoulders. "Why so suspicious all the time? You must be stressed. Too much goin' on with school an' helpin' out here. Do I gotta have a man-to-man with Scottie on how to…"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" She raised her finger at him and walked out of his friendly embrace. "You see that she's awake, now go do the rest of your job and tell the professor." She tried to sound stern, but she knew he was just being his smartass self.

He shrugged, "Can't blame a guy for wantin' to be in the company of deux beautiful femmes. Ou revoir!" He turned his attention directly to Anna, "Be seein' you later, chere." With a wink, he turned and disappeared behind the automatic doors of the med lab.

Jean's lips turned up into an amused smile and she gave a quick shake of her head. "Ass," she mumbled under her breath. "That's Remy for you; anything to make the ladies swoon."

Anna snorted, "You mean women actually fall for that kind of crap?"

"Well, Remy is known for being quite the charmer. He seems to like you, which means you're going to have a whole lot more of that coming your way."

"Wonderful," Anna rolled her eyes.

Jean smiled and sat on the edge of Anna's bed. Putting a hand on her covered knee she said, "You know something? I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

~oOo~

If Augustus Richter was nothing else, he was determined; especially when he had a mission to accomplish. Presently, he had a very important mission – to find his wife. All of the possible leads he's followed so far came up to a dead end. He needed to re-think his strategy. _Think, Gus, think… _ he urged his brain to access everything he knew about Marie, down to the finest detail. What thought path would she have trod down when she was planning to leave? Had she been planning this for a while, or was it spur of the moment? _No, I would have known if she was thinking about it beforehand. She's never been good with hiding her feelings for too long._ Spur of the moment it was then. And if it was a last-minute decision, then she wouldn't waste time with any sort of elaborate escape plan, opting for a much simpler, quick-to-execute plan.

He opened up his laptop and accessed the airport website to see the list of departures. If she hopped a plane, she would have taken the first available flight. He scrolled through the destinations and mentally noted the most frequented cities. He knew she wouldn't have left the country, or at least not the continent. She didn't have enough money for that. It was all a matter of elimination now. If he had to, he would travel to and thoroughly search all fifty states until he found her, but he didn't think that he'd have to go that far. If he knew his Marie, and he knew her very well, she probably went somewhere fairly familiar. He hadn't thought far ahead enough to know exactly what he was going to do when he finally did get a hold of her, but he knew that she was going to be sorry for ever thinking about leaving him.

He shut the laptop, walked over to the closet and selected a few articles of clothing before laying them out on the bed. In his mind, he ran down all of the things that needed to be taken care of before he left. He looked at the nightstand, where he placed Marie's abandoned wedding ring. He narrowed his eyes at it, before turning around to find a bag to pack his things in. _Oh honey, you've really done it this time._

~oOo~

"Ah, good to see you awake and alert!" a jovial voice turned Anna's head toward the med lab doorway. A Big, blue furry man that she didn't recognize walked in wearing a lab coat, and carrying a clip board. "How are you feeling my dear," he said as he stopped beside her bed.

"Besides like my head got run over by a truck? Fine I guess," Anna answered.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Doctor Henry McCoy," he leaned in slightly and winked, "but everyone here just calls me Hank." Anna just nodded in response. Hank pulled some surgical gloves out of his pocket, "If you don't mind, I'd like to give your injuries a quick once-over."

"Whatever you need to do doc," she shrugged.

As Hank examined the back of Anna's head, the professor wheeled in through the automatic doors. "Good afternoon," he greeted with a kind smile. "I hope you're beginning to feel a bit better."

"My head still hurts a bit, but the pain meds are helpin' that," she shrugged again. "I'm sure I'll be out of your hair by later tonight."

Hank finished with her head, "Looks like it's healing well." He then busied himself elsewhere while Anna and Xavier continued their conversation.

Charles shook his head, "My dear, let me assure you that there is no need to rush your recovery. You must be feeling quite shaken after being attacked like that."

"It's nothin' I can't handle," she responded. "Besides, I have to work tomorrow. It won't look good to call in sick on my second night."

"Ah, yes, Logan and Remy said that you were the new waitress at Jerry's Pub. I'm sure if I call to let him know about your situation he'd understand. After all, being jumped by four men in the street is much more serious than something like a head-cold."

"Look I appreciate everythin' you've done for me, but it's just a little bump on the head, I'll be fine."

"And what about the fractures on your ribs?" Charles folded his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees.

Anna stiffened slightly. "It's no big deal; I've dealt with it before."

"I'm sure you have."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she narrowed her eyes.

Charles sighed and relaxed his shoulders. "I have no desire or reason to deceive you, so I'll just come out with it. When Logan realized who you were that night in the bar, it raised some questions that we thought should be looked into. Given your past affiliation with Mystique combined with your sudden reappearance after such a long absence, I'm sure you understand why we felt we needed to investigate your reason for being back in Bayville." Anna nodded guardedly. "We learned a few things about you: that you lived in Flint Michigan, that your name is Anna Marie, and three years ago you married a man named Augustus Richter." He paused to let her digest what he was saying. "We also discovered that the day you left, you made a substantial withdrawal from the bank account you share with your husband and got on a plane shortly after."

"What are you guys? The fucking mutant CIA or something?"

"I assure you that we were only trying to verify whether or not you were still working with Mystique. As you probably already know, she is quite cunning and an expert at executing covert operations and we often need to dig a little deeper than normal to expose anything she may be plotting."

Anna relaxed slightly; she had to give _that_ to him. Mystique was quite slippery and cleaver. She could use someone for her own gain without that person even being aware.

"Rest assured we are convinced that you no longer have any ties with her. Your medical examination though does raise some other concerns about your own safety." His voice was kind and gentle. "I won't ask you to divulge the details until you're ready to, but given what the x-rays have shown us, I strongly urge you to consider staying here for the next little while."

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but really, I'll be fine," Anna replied. "I can take care of myself."

"And what about your powers? You haven't used them in so many years; I doubt you're at all familiar with how they work. If you stay here, we can work with you to help you learn about your powers: how to use them, and maybe even how to control them." Xavier argued. "And then comes the question about your husband."

Anna became defensive, "What about him?"

"How do you think he felt when he discovered that you left?"

Anna bit her lower lip. Gus would be furious; possibly furious enough to come after her. But would he be able to find her?

Charles' voice softened, "I know I said I wouldn't pry, and you don't have to confirm or deny what I'm about to say, but would I be wrong in assuming that the reason you felt the need to leave so quickly was because of something he'd done to you? If that's the case, then isn't it possible, that perhaps it wouldn't be a good thing if he did manage to track you down?" Anna continued to chew her lip as she mulled over what the professor said. He leaned forward slightly and held her eyes with a compassionate gaze. "In the end it's your choice, but I could not, in good conscience, let you leave here without being fully aware of what the potential risks are. If you do choose to stay, that does not mean that you have to stay forever. Once everything blows over, and you still want to leave, you can. On the other hand though, if at such a time you decide you want to stay, you will be more than welcome to."

Anna sighed. If Gus really was coming after her, then it would be a lot harder to get to her while she lived in a well-guarded house full of mutants than in an apartment on her own. "What about my job?" she asked. "It's a little far from here. Is there a bus that goes by or somethin' that I can take there?"

"While I will not require you to pay for room and board or any other essentials, I understand that you would like your independence. I can make arrangements for someone to take you to and from work…"

"I don't wanna be a burden on anyone," she cut him off.

"I assure you my dear you will not be burdening anyone. Besides, it would be safer if you didn't have to travel alone."

Although Anna wanted nothing more than to finally do things on her own, she reluctantly agreed with the professor that here would be the safer place to be for now.

~oOo~

She hadn't uncovered too much about the man Xavier suggested she research, but combined with what he had told her about Anna's injuries it was enough to make her want to hang this Augustus by his toes and slit his throat. Her anger was further fuelled by her daughter's own naivety. Why on Earth would Anna even consider marriage at such a young age? Didn't she and Irene teach her better than that? _Don't you mean didn't just Irene teach her better?_ She turned her anger inward for a moment. She had been mostly absent from her life because she was always off on some sort of mission. On paper, she was Anna's mother, but Mystique really didn't have much of a hand in raising her, unless you counted financial support and off and on visits as parental nurturing. If she only hadn't let her slip away; if only she would have built more of a relationship with her, maybe Anna would be at home, safe, with her and Irene and not seeking love and affection from some abusive asshole.

Suddenly, a thought struck Mystique. Why would a man want to marry a woman he couldn't touch? There was something more to this guy that she needed to find. Was he a mutant too? Did he know something about Anna's powers that no one else had been able to discover? Mystique narrowed her eyes as the cab she rode in stopped abruptly in front of a building.

"Here we are," the cab driver said. "That'll be fifty-five bucks."

Mystique handed him the money and got out of the taxi without a word. She looked up at the building, trying to think of a way to discreetly break into the third-floor apartment suit that had been Anna's home until recently. She noticed someone exiting through the main doors "Can you hold that door please?" She shouted and started running up the steps. "Thanks," she said when she reached the door, "I forgot my keys inside." The other person shrugged and continued on his way. Mystique made her way up the stairs and found the door to the apartment.

She picked the lock and entered the suite, only to find it empty. She took the opportunity to search around for any more possible evidence as to who this man was. The closet in the bedroom was open and fairly empty considering the fact that two people were supposed to be living here. That only meant one thing – she got here too late. "You bastard," Mystique seethed. He was gone to find Anna and probably try to bring her back. Her jaw clenched as she noticed a photo of the two of them on the dresser. _You are not going to get anywhere near my daughter again. Not if I find you first._


	6. Catching up

**Hi everyone! Thank you again and again to everyone who's been reading, reviewing and adding this story to their alerts/favourites. I must sound like a broken record by now since I seem to start these things the same way every time, but I'd rather sound repetitive than ungrateful. **

**I had a bit of a hard time writing this chapter just because there is almost too much I could include. I know there is a lot to address about Rogue and the various relationships between characters, but I felt I needed to sift through them and decide which ones will enhance the story, and which ones will deviate too far from the plot. Although comic book Scott and Rogue mostly have very little to do with each other, I thought that their Evo counterparts kind of developed a bit of a bond especially in the first season (unrequited love aside) so I thought I would be missing something important if I didn't touch on it a little bit. So, this chapter might seem just as lame as the previous one, but hopefully I redeem myself a little at the end of it. One of my main problems was with all the ideas that were better suited for the next chapter latching on to my brain and clouding my thoughts about finishing this chapter so I really had to trudge through this to get it done.**

**Anyway, leave a note letting me know if you love it or hate it (or anything in between) and feel free to be brutally honest if I've messed up somewhere, but most importantly enjoy the next instalment!**

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Catching-up**

Once Hank had given her the okay to leave the med bay, Anna had gone with Logan back to her hotel to get the rest of her things. Although Jean had been nice enough to wash the clothes she had worn the previous night, she needed to have more than one set of clothes if she was staying here. _I could probably stand to buy some more, but that hotel bill tapped my funds a bit. I guess what I have will have to do until I get my first paycheque._ The fact that Xavier would not accept payment from her for staying there made it a little easier on her. She had the opportunity to save a bit of money up so that when she was ready to leave, she would have a financial cushion.

Right now, she was making her way down to the kitchen (Jean had shown her the way earlier) for dinner. Her eyes widened at the complete and utter mayhem that she opened the large doors to. She recognized a few faces: Kurt – the blue, fuzzy, demon-like guy – she remembered absorbing him the first time her powers manifested; she remembered Kitty as the one who jumped on her when Kurt was trying to talk to her that same night; Ororo – another victim of her powers that night; and Scott – the one X-Man who had tried to befriend her while she was still in school. The rest (besides those she'd come in contact with today) she didn't recognize. Everyone here had taken to calling her Rogue, and she let them. She didn't bother correcting them because she didn't plan on being a permanent resident of Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning. Once it was time to leave, she'd go back to being plain, old Anna.

After filling her plate, she chose a table in the far corner and sat down by herself. Although the people here seemed to be fairly nice, she still didn't quite feel like she fit in here. She also figured that everyone must have been told about her abilities because, even though their words were kind, she noticed that most people gave her a considerable amount of space. All except one, who hasn't seemed to have heard the term "personal space" let alone know what it meant.

"Chère, what's a belle fille like you doin' alone in a dark corner like this?"

Speak of the devil. Anna inwardly sighed and replied, "You can plainly see that I'm eatin', or do your mutant abilities prevent you from seein' the obvious?"

He just smiled and sat down across from her. "Now, now no need to get defensive. I was jus' makin' conversation."

"Well why don't you go make conversation with someone else?"

"Because I like bein' in your company."

"You don't even know me. How do you know you like bein' in my company?" Anna narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Well," he said, smile never faltering, "how do I get to know you unless I spend some time with you?"

Anna rolled her eyes and went back to her dinner. Maybe if she ignored him long enough he would go away. She looked up momentarily to see him looking up at her from his plate. She quickly looked down and tried to pretend that she hadn't met his eyes. His eyes were like nothing she'd ever seen before and she was finding herself wanting to look at them over and over again. The rest of him wasn't too bad to look at either and there was something about him underneath his snake charmer façade. But in Anna's mind there were two major problems: one – she couldn't touch. There was no possible way to have a romantic relationship with someone without being able to touch them; and two: she had only left Gus a few _days_ ago and was definitely not ready to get into the mess of another relationship. She couldn't just go from loving one man and diving straight into falling for another. _But have you really loved him all this time?_ her inner voice asked.

"You all done there chère?" Remy's voice broke her train of thought.

"Uh, yah, thank you," she sputtered as he took her empty plate for her.

He winked at her, "No problem. I'll see you later." She watched his receding form before getting up herself and walking toward the exit. She needed some air and time to think.

Anna stepped out the mansion's back door into its still dormant garden. Branches were bare, and flowerbeds had yet to be adorned with the colourful assortment of blossoms that no doubt usually filled them, but there was an odd, almost haunting, beauty in its emptiness. She strolled over to a white, marble fountain with a statue of a woman standing in the centre. The woman was gracefully bending down with a water jug in her hands. Her appearance reminded Anna of a Grecian goddess; flowing fabric draped over her body, and loose curls intermingled with ivy fastened up almost carelessly. Anna perched herself on the edge of the fountain and inhaled deeply while closing her eyes. When did her life get so messed up? It seemed like only yesterday that she was a scared, seventeen-year-old girl who had been cursed with the ability to rip a person's soul out through their skin. When she met Gus, she thought her prayers had been answered. It _had_ to be fate, after all… right? What else was she to think when meeting the person whose powers could give her that which her own took away? She was so caught up in the fantasy coming to life that she forgot one very important detail – fate could be a cruel bitch. By the time she realized it, it was too late; she was bound to this man both by law, and also by a twisted mixture of fear and gratitude. He had taken her in and given her everything she thought she would never have. If not for him, she would have been alone all these years, or possibly long dead – either from starvation, or perhaps by her own hands. She wasn't proud of it, but just after her powers manifested, the thought of just ending her misery did cross her mind more than a few times.

"Rogue?"

Her musings were broken by a familiar voice approaching her. He was just as she remembered him: the clean-cut, totally in control of himself, Boy Scout. "Hi Scott," she replied.

"It's been a long time," he stated, sitting next to her on the ledge of the fountain. "When we heard you were back, I almost couldn't believe it."

Anna shrugged, "I guess I'm just full of surprises." Her lips twitched up into an awkward smile and she turned to look at him.

"Yeah, well, after it was clear that you pretty much fell off the planet, none of us thought we'd see you again." He stopped, seemingly searching for the right words. "After more than a year and not even a blip from cerebro… we all assumed that…. I guess I'm trying to say that I'm glad you're alright."

_Read: alive,_ Anna thought and moved to face forward again. "I didn't think y'all would notice to tell the truth. Well, maybe not that you wouldn't notice, but I didn't think y'all would watch cerebro for a sign of me."

"You may have been working for the other side, but I knew you never belonged with them. You were never like those Brotherhood boys. Besides, I thought that we were kind of becoming friends for a while there." He exhaled and turned his face forward, bracing his palms against the edge of the fountain. "What happened to make you want to run?"

"When you learn, via your curse, that the two people you've put your trust in to take care of you and keep you safe lied to you just so that they could use you to fight for their mission, and so that their enemy didn't get to you first, it makes it a little hard to stay."

"Well, then you must have learned the truth about us here, why didn't you come to the institute?" He turned to regard her again.

She gave a humourless chuckle. "I don't really remember what I was thinkin' at the time, only that I was angry and wanted to put as much distance between myself and the Brotherhood as possible." She met his stare. "Scott, I've made a lot of poor choices the last few years. Problem with most poor choices is that you don't realize it until it's too late. That's why I'm back in Bayville; I wanted to try and make up for the bad decisions I've made and start fresh. I know I'll always carry my mistakes with me, but maybe they won't have to run my life anymore."

Scott studied her for a moment. He always pictured her the way she was when he last saw her: as the scared, angry, teenage girl hiding behind layers of makeup and a scowl. She had discarded the mask of makeup, and although her disposition seemed to have lightened considerably, she still put up a brave front to hide the cracked and broken pieces that lay underneath it all. Selfishly, he'd always considered her one of his failures. Maybe if he would have tried harder, she wouldn't have disappeared, she would have come to them instead. He knew it was an irrational thought, but it was a thought that haunted him to this very day. "Well, you know this _is_ a place for second chances."

"So I've heard," Anna gave a small but genuine smile.

~oOo~

After a little over a week at the institute, Anna had fallen into somewhat of a routine. She would wake around eleven o'clock and join the other residents for lunch. After that, she'd help out with some of the chores and then have a quick dinner before leaving for work around six-thirty. Usually Logan or Scott would drive her to work, unless someone else was going in that direction at the time. After work, it was almost always Remy waiting to pick her up. The first couple of days, he had her riled up almost to the point of strangling him, but in a few days, their banter almost became a nice release for Anna after a hard shift, even though he did still have a knack for making her blood boil.

She looked up long enough to see him walk in the door before going back to wiping the table in front of her. "Jerry, I didn't know y'all got swamp rats this far north."

" 'S funny, I was jus' thinkin' the same thing about river rats," Remy responded to her quip.

Jerry just rolled his eyes and continued counting the till. This was becoming a nightly event whenever Anna was working. Remy would walk in just as they were closing, and they would go back and forth until Anna was ready to go home. Normally, he wouldn't have allowed it, but after Logan told him about her being attacked outside the pub that first night, he didn't mind that there was someone there to make sure she got home safe.

"I think I've got everythin' done, anythin' else you need before I go?" Anna asked, untying her apron.

Jerry took a quick look around the bar. "No, I think that's good for tonight. We'll see you Tuesday," he waved to her.

"See yah then!" she smiled and joined Remy by the door before exiting.

Remy noticed her rolling her shoulders as they walked out into the parking lot. "Feelin' a little sore chère?"

Anna nodded, "Some nights carryin' those trays can be murder."

Remy's mouth stretched into a wide grin, "You know, with a little hot oil, and a pair of _very_ talented hands, I could alleviate some of that tension for you… as well as a few other kinds of tension."

"Not as much as my fist bustin' up that pretty, little face of yours could."

"Aw, I wouldn't call my face pretty; handsome, or drop-dead sexy maybe, but not pretty. Mais, I'll take it as a compliment anyway," he said, not missing a beat.

"I swear Cajun, if your head gets any bigger, you won't fit through the door," Anna rolled her eyes as she shook her head.

"Oh petite, your concern is absolutely touching," he said as he hooked an arm around her shoulders. Anna was about to shove him off when he suddenly stiffened and slightly tightened his grip. "Somethin' ain't right," he whispered while trying to keep his body language as casual as possible.

"Remy?"

He released her and held out a hand to help her on to the motorcycle. "Good thing it's your day off, 'cause we're takin' the scenic route home," He whispered into her ear as he handed her a helmet. An outside observer might have simply viewed their interaction as a tender moment between two people, but Anna could see that Remy's jaw was set, and that his movements were tense. He got on the bike in front of her and Anna went to grab the handle on the back. "Non chère, the speed we'll be goin' at, it's safer if you hold onto me." Normally she would have scoffed at him and written it off as an excuse to get her to touch him, but there was no lightness in his voice, telling her that he was completely serious. She wrapped her arms around his waist, loosely at first, then tightened them and drew herself closer as he shot out of the parking lot.

~oOo~

This had been much easier than he thought it was going to be. It had only been a week and a bit since he set off to find her, and here she was, strolling out of a bar. _My sweet, little Marie, how predictable of you._ Leave it to her to find a job at a dive just like the one back at home. His jealousy flared when he saw the tall, lean man in the trench coat escort her out of the building. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter when he could see that the man was obviously flirting with her, and he had to resist the urge to run them over when the asshole slung an arm around _his_ wife. What really pissed him off though was the fact that Marie hadn't done anything to stop any of it. As a matter of fact, it looked almost as though she were enjoying it.

_You filthy, little whore,_ he thought as he saw the man help her onto the motorcycle, and apparently whisper _sweet nothings_ or some other romantic bullshit in her ear. He could hardly believe it. It was like a slap in the face; three years of marriage, and barely a week and a half after leaving him, she was already going home with other men. He had tried to follow when they drove away, but the speed that they were travelling at, combined with some erratic turns and the bike's ability to manoeuvre around traffic, it didn't take long to lose them. _It doesn't matter,_ he thought. Now that he knew where she worked, it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment. Gus was a patient man. Whether he had to wait another week, a month, or even a year, he would eventually get Marie back. She had promised him forever, and he intended to hold her to that promise. When he got his hands on her again, she would learn why she should never go back on her promises.

~oOo~

As much as he loved all the children at the institute, Charles Xavier would savour the moments where he could move through the halls without coming face to face with the varying degrees of chaos that youngsters, especially mutant youngsters, were prone to create on an almost hourly basis. Sunday was the one day where almost everyone in the mansion was able to sleep in, giving him a few hours in the morning to himself. Mug of tea in hand, he navigated his wheelchair to the doors of his study. Upon entering, he noticed the curtains billowing away from the open window. _Strange,_ he thought, fairly certain that he hadn't left the window open last night.

As he moved forward to close the window, he noticed a manila envelope on his desk. He set his mug down and lifted the envelope in his free hand to examine it; it was unmarked. His finger slid under the sealed flap and peered inside to see a photograph and a brief note:

_He's out searching for her right now. I am doing my best to track him, but the trail's gone cold for the moment. Keep an eye out for him in case he manages to find her first. _

Charles set the note aside. The photograph showed Rogue standing in front of a blond-haired, brown-eyed man who had his arms hugged around her shoulders while her hands grasped his forearms, clearly displaying the gold, wedding bands they each wore. Judging by the length of her hair, the photo was likely a couple of years old. To anyone else, it was simply a portrait of a young, happy couple, but Charles noticed one, shocking detail. Rogue wore an off-the-shoulder sweater, while Augustus wore a short-sleeved, collared shirt. His hands on her bare shoulders, and her hands on his bare arms.

It was another sliver of insight into the mysteries surrounding Rogue, but he wasn't sure what it meant yet. It was clear that she did not have control over her powers, but if that was the case, then how was this picture taken? Was it simply a trick of camera angles that made it look as though they were touching? _No,_ Xavier thought. The firm grip they held on each other was apparent in the photograph. Perhaps the photo was taken quick enough that the effects of her mutation were minimal, or at least not shown in the picture. _Or, he might have had some means to help her control her powers._ "Hmm," he vocalized his confusion. If that truly was the case, then it would answer a few of the questions that were eluding him thus far.

Deciding to mull it over in his head a bit, he tucked the note and the portrait back into the envelope, and stored it in the top drawer of his desk. He snapped his head up at the sound of knocking. "Come in," he called out as he shut and locked the drawer.

In walked a very exhausted looking Remy. Judging by the sweat pants and t-shirt he wore and his overall dishevelled appearance, Charles could guess that the young man was likely laying awake waiting to come speak to him. "Remy, what can I do for you this morning?"

He ran a hand through his messy locks and sighed, "I think we need to keep a closer eye on Rogue."

"What do you mean?"

"Earlier, when I picked her up from work, I got a bad feelin'; like someone was watchin' real close."

"Did you see anything suspicious?" Charles' brow furrowed at the information.

"Non," Remy shook his head, "but I jus' had this feelin' like ice in my gut. I don' think whoever it was managed to follow us since I took a bit of a roundabout way home, but I thought you should know."

Charles nodded, "Thank you for telling me. Rogue has the next couple of days off, correct?"

"Oui," Remy nodded.

"Then that gives us a couple of days to keep our eyes and ears open, and to decide what to do next. In the meantime, perhaps we should encourage her to stay close to the mansion."

"D'accord," Remy answered.

"How is Rogue feeling about this?" Charles asked.

"We didn' talk much about it, but I could see she's a little spooked. I tried to tell her that it might be nothin', but I'm not sure she's convinced."

Charles nodded again as he mentally tried to fit all of the new information together. "Go get some sleep, my dear boy. I'll think on this further and let you know if I come up with something."


	7. Regrets and Trust

**Thanks again to everyone who's reading and a big thank-you to the swift reviewers who've been loyally sticking to this story. I might not get to review replies tonight, but I'll make time tomorrow for them for sure!**

**This chapter is a little more angsty than previous chapters, but there's also a hint of mushiness too, so I hope it helps to balance it a bit. Oh and FYI I tweaked Remy's history a bit. Yes, I know he was still technically married after he was exiled from the guild, but since it's fanfiction, I'm exercising my creative license here. Oh and I kinda borrowed one part from the beginning from one of the Rogue limited series books. I've changed the character (from Storm to Kitty) and it's kinda different, but I don't want to take all the credit for an idea that was heavily inspired by something else.**

**As always, enjoy, and drop me a note telling me what you think if you have the time!**

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Regrets and Trust**

Anna was just walking out of her room when she noticed Kitty, Jean and Kurt bringing in groceries from the institute's weekly shopping trip. She noticed that Kitty struggling a little with her load and had nearly dropped it a couple of times. Anna jogged down the stairs, "Stop, Kitty, let me help you with that."

"What? Rogue?" Kitty asked as she saw Anna approach her with her arms outstretched. In a moment of irrational panic Kitty jerked back, "No wait! I don't have…" The items Kitty was carrying tumbled from her hands. Anna managed to catch most of it, but a carton of eggs that was balanced on top crashed to the floor in an oozing mess.

"Kitty! I told you that you were carrying too much!" Jean scolded from behind her. "It's a good thing Rogue was there to catch everything else or we might have a bigger mess on our hands."

"I'll get the mop," Kurt said before disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke.

"But Jean, I wasn't… I mean…"

"Don't blame Kitty, it was my fault; I startled her." Anna shrugged lightly despite the load in her arms.

"No, you were only trying to help," Jean sighed. "Kitty, why don't you help Rogue with some of the stuff she's carrying and show her where it goes."

At Kitty's slightly nervous expression at the mention of getting near her again, Anna spoke up, "It's okay Jean, I've got it. I'll just bring it into the kitchen and Kitty can put it away while I help you guys finish unloading the van." She couldn't stop her face from falling at Kitty's slightly relieved expression, so she turned as quickly as she could and made her way to the kitchen.

"Thanks, Rogue, and sorry for freaking out, I guess I… I mean…" Kitty groped for the right words, feeling a little embarrassed at her actions.

"Don't worry about it," Anna cut her off and waved her hand. She offered a weak smile and promptly left the kitchen. Unloading the rest of the groceries went off without incident, but she couldn't help but notice that Jean and Kurt always gave her a wide berth of space whenever she passed. After she brought the last load to the kitchen, Anna slipped out without a word and made her way to the library to sit by the big, bay window.

She plopped herself down and stared at her gloved hands. _Don't take it personal, they're not used to being around people with powers like yours,_ she tried to reassure herself. Living with someone who could turn her powers off made her forget just how frightening her powers could be to other people. Suddenly Anna became aware of exactly how big of an adjustment not having someone to touch would be. Something as simple as a caress or a kiss was now out of her reach. It was like having it ripped away all over again. Unless… _Unless I go back…_ Was her independence really worth total loss of all physical contact with another human being? She shook her head, _not just your independence, your safety,_ she told herself. _You know full well that if you go back, it's only a matter of time before he goes too far and you wind up dead._ But was a life without touch really worth living? She put her head in her hands and bit her lip to fight off the tears that threatened to spill. A warm weight rested on her shoulder. When she looked up, her eyes met a pair of glowing, red ones.

"Chère?" his voice, soft and gravelly called out to her. "Is everythin' okay?"

Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled. "Yeah, I'm fine," she forced an unconvincing smile. His hand lifted itself off of her shoulder and Anna found that she missed the warmth of his touch almost instantly. He settled himself down in front of her on the window seat.

"You sure? Looks like somethin's eatin' at you," he probed gently.

She cast her head downward, "I guess just all the feelin's about everythin's that's happened the last little while have just caught up to me at once." She looked back at him and saw that his expression was soft, concerned.

"Funny how that works, huh?" he said with a sympathetic smirk. Anna just nodded and dropped her eyes back into her lap. He placed his fully gloved hand on her knee, causing her to look up. His smirk had grown into a warm smile. "It's a good thing, then, that I know jus' the thing to cheer you up."

Anna quirked an eyebrow, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He stood up and offered his hand to her.

"What are you up to swamp rat?"

"It's a surprise, come on. Trust me, you'll like it." He extended his hand further, urging her to take it. Her eyes flicked down from his face to his hand before hesitantly raising her own hand up and placing it in his grasp. Remy pulled her up, and still gripping her hand, he pulled her away toward the garage.

About an hour later, the stopped in front of a little ice cream shop. Remy knew it was risky, taking her so far away from the mansion like this, but she needed to get out and do something fun for a change. Anna pulled off her helmet and stared up at the shop. "That was an awful long ride just to get some ice cream," she said sceptically.

"Not jus' any ice cream chère, this happens to be some of the best ice cream you can get 'round these parts." He smiled and held the door open for her. "Wait 'till you try it; it'll be near impossible to enjoy any other kind of frozen treat after this."

~oOo~

Although Charles was mildly annoyed to see Remy drive out of the mansion gates with Rogue without telling anyone where they were going, the distressed he sensed from the young girl earlier told him that maybe it was something that needed to be done. Besides, it would be easier to call a meeting with the X-Men concerning Rogue if she was not in the mansion at the time. He watched as the team filtered in and took their seats.

"You wanted to see us Professor?" Scott asked.

"Yes, I have some new information on Rogue that I thought we should all be aware of," Charles began. "I found this in my office this morning." He tossed the envelope on the table. "Just shortly after we found Rogue, Mystique paid me a visit. She was concerned for Rogue's wellbeing because of some visions Destiny had about her."

"What kind of visions?" Ororo asked.

"She didn't go into detail, but the long and short of it is that Rogue may be in danger. I gave Mystique the name of Rogue's husband knowing that she would seek him out and get as much information on him as she could."

"And this is what she came up with so far?" Jean asked, reaching for the envelope. She held it open and pulled out the note and the photo. Scott and Kitty leaned in and looked over her shoulder. After reading the note, she passed it over to the other side of the table.

"What do you notice about the photo?"

It took a moment, but finally Scott spoke, "They're touching! I mean their skin is touching." Kitty and Jean's eyes widened as Jean passed the photo over to the eager hands across the table.

Charles nodded, "It appears that whoever this person is, he's found a way around her powers."

"Which would explain why she hasn't used her powers in so long," Kurt mused out loud.

"And probably why she married him in the first place," Kitty added.

"And why she let the bastard toss her around," Logan grunted.

"Now, Logan, although it is one possibility for her injuries, we don't have any concrete evidence to support that theory," Charles countered. Although he himself believed it, he didn't want to jump to any conclusions too soon.

"I don't need evidence; all I need is my gut. And my gut's telling me that this guy," he pointed at the photo, "is the reason she's in any danger at all."

"So what does this all mean, Charles?" Hank spoke up.

"I think that Rogue's husband, this Augustus, might be looking for her. When Remy picked her up from work early this morning, he said that he felt like they were being watched."

"Asshole wants his punching bag back." Charles didn't even bother chastising Logan for his comment.

"At very least, this photo shows us what he looks like so we can keep an eye out for him. We should probably make sure that she doesn't leave the mansion alone. It shouldn't be too difficult since she isn't able to drive herself anywhere." Charles said.

"Where is she right now?" Kitty asked.

"Out with Remy. I saw them drive through the gates earlier. I don't think we need to be worried right now, since I'm sure he will be careful not to let anyone follow them back here should he sense someone watching them again." He continued, "Besides, I sensed some distress coming off of her, perhaps she needed some time away."

Kitty cast her eyes down at the professor's last statement. She still felt guilty for overreacting earlier. It hadn't occurred to her that Rogue's feelings might be hurt until after the damage had been done.

"Hank," Logan called out to the blue, furry doctor, "how are her injuries healing?"

"I've scheduled a check-up with her for tomorrow, why?"

"Maybe it's time she had a little training of her own, at least so that she can defend herself when we're not there."

~oOo~

"Mmmm, oh my God," Anna groaned. "You weren't kiddin' Cajun. This is better than anythin' I've ever experienced."

"_Anythin'_ chère?"

"A know exactly what you're referrin' to, and it does not hold a candle to this," she looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"Well then maybe you haven't _experienced_ it with the right person," he said wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Whatever you say, I still think if I had to pick one or the other for the rest of my life, I'd pick the ice cream." She put another spoonful in her mouth and closed her eyes as she swirled it around on her tongue. Remy laughed briefly before they fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"So what do you like to be called?" Remy broke the quiet.

"Excuse me?" Anna looked over at him wide-eyed.

"Everyone at the institute calls you _Rogue_, but I never heard you actually introduce yourself as that. I know it's not your real name, but is it really what you like to be called?"

She shrugged, "It was a nickname I earned as a kid, but mostly I just went by Anna. When I lived here before, I had everyone call me Rogue. Maybe I was trying to create a new identity for myself or something. Everyone at the mansion must just assume that's what I still want to be called. When I met Gus, he started callin' me Marie, and that's who I've been for the last few years."

"And what about now?"

"Now," she sighed, "I guess I'd just like to be Anna again."

"Well, Anna, I think that's a mighty pretty name to go with a mighty pretty femme, " he smiled.

Anna smiled back. "Snake charmer," she said as she nudged his shoulder.

"So, if you don't mind me askin', what's the deal with this husband of yours anyway?"

Anna's smile fell away and she looked off into the distance. It was only a matter of time before someone asked her, so she decided to divulge the information. "I met him when I was seventeen, just after I ran away from the Brotherhood house. He took me in, and at some point I discovered that he was a mutant too."

"What're his powers?"

"He has the ability to turn off other mutants' powers." Remy's eyes widened and he nodded. "I thought it was a dream- come-true. Here I was, the untouchable girl, findin' someone who could touch me and I could touch back." She chuckled lightly and shook her head. "About a year later when he asked me to marry him, I was naïve enough to think I was getting my fairy tale ending. We eloped that weekend. I didn't even have a proper wedding dress, or a party or anythin' really, but I still felt like Cinderella finding her prince charmin'."

"Really chère, the whole big weddin' ain't all it's cracked up to be. Doesn't make the marriage any more real."

"You know from experience?"

Remy nodded, "Arranged marriage to end some long, standing family feud."

"What happened?"

"Just after the ceremony, my new brother in law wasn't exactly thrilled about our union. He challenged me to a duel – dead man loses – and… well as you can see, I'm right here. As a way to keep peace 'tween the families, it was agreed that the marriage be dissolved and that I be exiled from N'Awlins."

"Wow," was the only response Anna could muster. She knew there was much more to the story, but she decided he would fill in the blanks when he was ready to.

"What about you? What happened to turn your fairy tale sour?" Remy asked.

Anna shrugged again, "Turns out that he wasn't such a prince charmin' after all." She fell silent for a moment before continuing, "At first, things were good, and then little things would set him off. Before I knew it, almost every argument we had would end with me flyin' into a wall or slammed to the floor. He only hit me in the face once, but never did it again once he realized that it raised too many questions with my co-workers."

Remy's face held a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "Why did you stay?"

"Like I said, he's the only person I know of who can touch me. I just always thought that he was the best I could ever have. It was either stay with him, or wind up alone for the rest of my life."

"What changed your mind then? Why did you leave in the end?"

Anna inhaled deeply and held her breath for a moment before continuing, "Despite how often he'd rub my nose in the fact that he's the only one who can touch me, Gus is still a jealous man. The last fight we had was over me workin' late one night. He was convinced there was somethin' funny goin' on between my boss and me. Long story short, this fight ended with me unconscious, at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Luckily I got away with only a few bruises and fractured ribs, but I guess I realised that one day I won't be so lucky…" she trailed off and looked down at her, now empty, ice cream bowl. His gloved fingers cupped her chin and lifted her head up to meet his gaze.

"Anna, you have to know that it was the right decision to make," he said, as if reading her mind.

"I know, but…"

"No buts," he cut her off. "So what if he can touch your skin? He was only usin' it to trap you – to make you believe that you _couldn't_ leave because there was nothin' else for you. And that's simply not true chère." He brought his other hand up to cup her face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that were beginning to fall. "You deserve so much better than what he was giving you." He pulled her into his embrace and held her as he spoke. "Tell me, Anna, when was the last time that husband of yours just held you? When was the last time he showed you love without touching your skin, or at all for that matter?" He could feel her body tremble as she quietly sobbed. All the while, he held her tightly, pressing the side of his face against the top of her head.

When they finally separated, Anna spoke, "Remy… I…I don't…"

"Hush chère," he put a finger to her lips. "I know…. I know." He grinned at her to let her know he understood that she wasn't ready yet. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he was ready. He felt so comfortable opening up to her that the words and feelings just tumbled out before he knew it. She held his eyes with her own and nodded.

~oOo~

He stared out into the empty parking lot as the last few patrons trickled out. She wasn't here tonight, but there was always tomorrow night, and the night after. He would wait until the time was right to claim what was his, and God help anyone who got in his way.


	8. Haunted and Hunted

**Hi all! I am so sorry for the delay in updating this story. Nothing particularly Earth-shattering happened, but just a few little things piled up leaving me very little time for fanfiction. (Seriously, I have like 20 alerts in my inbox on stories that I haven't had a chance to read yet!) Thanks again for everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! I have to say that I'm not terribly happy with this chapter. It's a bit of a slow start and I'm worried that it might be just plain boring in parts. I majorly suck at writing action sequences, so I hope the end isn't too anti-climactic. **

** WARNING for my dear readers: there is a scene in here that involves some sexual violence that some might find disturbing. I hesitate to put the word **_**mild **_**or **_**minor**_** in front of that just because stuff like that really isn't taken lightly, but it's not a rape scene or anything that extreme. **

** This is pretty much the last full chapter except for an epilogue that will follow later. So enjoy, and leave a comment if you're so inclined. Sorry in advance for spelling and grammar errors, I didn't have too much time to read it over too thoroughly.**

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

_**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Haunted and Hunted**_

Remy found himself feeling conflicted. This evening, he and Anna had shared some very personal stories about their pasts. And while Remy's intent was not at all to fish for information about the enigmatic southern belle, he knew that some of what she told him would allow Professor Xavier and the X-Men to piece together the mysteries surrounding the woman known to them as Rogue and, in turn, help them to better protect her. However, some part of him felt that to tell would almost be a betrayal to Rogue. _Anna_, he mentally corrected himself: beautiful, sassy, strong Anna. There was a time, in the _very_ recent past, where just the idea of a woman who could not be touched would have him turn to look for the next bimbo with a pert bottom and perky set of tits. What was so different about her then? Was it her unconventional, yet alluring appearance with those deep, green eyes, perfect hour-glass, full and pouty lips, and wavy chestnut hair with an exotic shock of white? Or was it the way she shrugged off his advances and refused to swoon at his charms, lighting a spark of excitement inside him, encouraging him to try that much harder to get under her skin? Maybe it was the damaged parts and her vulnerability that called to his inner _knight in shining armour_ to sweep her away from the danger and to the happily-ever-after that she (and everyone else, really) wants so badly. Remy sighed and pushed his hair from his face when he realized that it was likely all three, and then some, that urged him to hand his heart over to her, and filled him with the hope that she might accept it if and when he did.

Anna was definitely a challenge, but there was no game. And even though there was no prize to be won, that didn't mean that there wasn't much to gain. He already deeply cherished the bond that was weaving between them: friends, and now, even confidants. But the bond was still thin, and easily broken. And as with material goods, the small, fine pieces were always the hardest to mend. Which brought him back to his original dilemma – to tell or not to tell? If he told the professor the key bits of information, she might feel like he was simply sent on a mission to get the whole story from her leaving her suspicious of any future attempts to extend the hand of friendship (or anything more) from him. At the same time though, he couldn't live with himself if something happened that could have been prevented had only the X-Men had knowledge of it in the first place. He grit his teeth and tugged at his hair.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," he called from his perch on the corner of the bed.

The door opened to reveal Logan chewing on a cigar. "Prof. wants to see you," he jerked his thumb back and to the side, "says it's important."

"Be there in a minute homme," Remy replied as he rose. _Let things stay quiet for now, maybe the professor already knows somethin', _he thought to himself.

~oOo~

It had been nearly a week since Remy was sent on his mission, and Anna was finally ready to admit that she missed him. Since she wasn't a part of the X-Men team, all she was told was that it was a surveillance job. She could guess that it had something to do with Robert Kelly's organization promoting mutant registration since anyone who was on the X-team went silent and watched attentively any time the news showed anything about it. He was organizing a press conference and Anna figured that the X-Men wanted to get as much information on it as possible beforehand so they could anticipate any possible fallout. It made for a tense atmosphere around the mansion.

The others at the institute were nice enough and usually invited her to join them in whatever they were doing, but she missed the after-work banter with Remy and maybe even a little of his flirting. Of all the residents of the mansion, Remy was the only one who was never afraid to get physically close to her while others were always mindful of keeping a safe distance away. The first time he invaded her personal space she shoved him away and asked him if he was trying to get killed. He simply responded, with that lazy, mischievous smirk, and slow, gravelly, Louisiana drawl, _How much fun would life be if we only did what was safe?_ To which she simply rolled her eyes and replied before stalking off, _Whatever swamp-rat, it's your funeral._ He'd been pushing her physical and emotional boundaries ever since, and God help her, she let him. The night he took her for ice cream was the first time she'd ever completely opened up to anyone. Even when she'd first met Gus and he asked why she ran away, she kept her answers vague, telling him that she didn't want to talk about it, that it was a part of her life she would never revisit anyway.

Anna gave a short, slightly bitter laugh. And here she was, back in Bayville, where four years ago her family's charade of love and caring was exposed as deceit and manipulation. Never in her life had she ever felt so alone than on the day she absorbed Mystique's memories. The only two people in the world that she completely trusted had lied to her and wanted to use her powers as a means of gaining the upper hand on both the X-Men and anyone else that got in their way. And then she left and created what she thought would be a better life where she would not be used as a weapon in a fight spurred by hate and a general clash in ideologies. Instead, she became a subservient fuck toy and punching bag to a man who had her convinced that she owed him her life because he was the only man she'd ever be able to touch.

_Momma woulda slapped me up the head for bein' so naïve,_ she mused. It was only a matter of time before Mystique tracked her down and confronted her. The question was how would Anna choose to receive her adoptive mother? Would she be willing to listen to Mystique's and Irene's side of things? Despite what happened when her powers manifested, the two women had given Anna a relatively happy childhood, and never once, until the day she touched Mystique, did she ever doubt their love for her. But what about know?

She sighed as she tugged on her gloves and gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. She decided it would be best to cross that bridge when it was upon her and just follow her instincts. She grabbed her purse off the dresser and headed down to meet Logan. It was Friday, and sure to be a busy night. No time to clog her brain with maybes and what ifs if she wanted to make some decent tips tonight.

"Hi Logan, ready to go?" she asked as she jogged down the stairs. He was already waiting in the foyer for her. He just nodded and led the way to the garage. Logan was an interesting character, Anna decided after the first few times he drove her to work. He wasn't one for idle chit chat and so their time in the car was often pretty quiet. On the outside, he looked like the meanest, toughest S.O.B.'s you'd ever meet, but in her short time at the mansion, Anna could tell he was nothing but a big softy under all those layers of rough and tough. She had called him on it once, and instigated a little verbal spar between them that earned a slight smile and short laugh from him.

"So have you put any thought into what we talked about earlier this week?" Logan suddenly asked a little while into the drive.

Anna nodded. "Yeah, I thought about it."

"Hank says that you should be ready for a little bit of light activity next week, so I thought we could start with some basic moves. Nothing too strenuous to start, just enough to get used to some of the motions."

"Sure, I mean, whatever you think is best. I used to know some basic fightin' moves, but it's been so long since I've used any of them that I'm sure I'm a little more than rusty."

"You'd be surprised how quick it all comes back. Who knows, we could be jumping from basic self-defence to advanced technique in no time."

"Ha!" Anna laughed. "I really don't think that's likely."

"Well I guess we'll just have to see how quickly I kick your ass on Monday then," Logan said.

"Oh is that how we're goin' to gage my progress? The length of time it takes for you to lay me out?"

Logan shrugged, "It's as good a measure as any."

Anna rolled her eyes and laughed as the car came to a halt. "I'll see ya later Wolvie."

Logan nodded. "I might stop in for a beer later. The kids are having some kind of movie marathon in the rec room tonight. I'm not sure I want to stick around for that."

"Just plan your escape route ahead of time and you'll be alright," she said as she stepped out of the car. "Bye!" She waved before turning around and entering the pub.

~oOo~

He watched as the familiar vehicle pulled into the parking lot and in front of the doors. It was the short, gruff man again. _Has the slut already ditched the one in the trench coat?_ Gus could see her laugh at something the man in the driver's seat said and narrowed his eyes. If he could only get his hands on her now, he'd slap that smile straight off her face and show her physically how much it hurt him emotionally to see her make time with other men. It would be a lesson in fidelity that she wouldn't soon forget. And if things went as planned, she'd be learning that lesson very soon.

He had checked out the building a few times and found a way in through the back. It would be a busy night so no one would notice him sneaking in and hiding out. She was in for a hell of a surprise at the end of her shift tonight. "You've been a very bad girl Marie," he said to himself, lips curling into a tight grin. "It's time to take you home and show you why you shouldn't break your promises."

~oOo~

It was late, but finally Remy was on his way home. He had gathered a significant amount of information about Kelly and his mutant registration plan: names of people and companies that were providing financial support, dates, meetings and even copies of a few documents. Hopefully it was enough for Professor Xavier to accomplish what he wanted to with all the info. There was no doubt that the professor would want to meet with him and discuss his findings, but Remy really hoped that the meeting would be brief. If there was enough time, he was going to surprise Anna at work. Although the mission kept his mind fairly occupied, in the times it was allowed to idle he found his thoughts drifting to her. He wondered for a moment if she missed him too.

He sped through the opening gates of the institute and parked his bike near the entrance. Pulling off his helmet he pushed the doors open and stepped into the mansion's large foyer. He paused for a moment to take comfort in the familiar sights of home. Remy's head whipped to the side at the sound of a squeal, followed by one of the younger boys racing out of the rec room. Two young girls ran from the same direction, no doubt in hot pursuit of the boy. Remy just grinned and shook his head before making his way to the professor's study.

~oOo~

They should have been proud of him, really; he lasted all the way to midnight before taking off. Besides, he spent a number of years looking after the senior X-Men when they were still kids, it was only fair that they got a taste of what it was like to be the _responsible adult_ in a house full of mutant teens. Ororo would probably lecture him later about letting children be children and so on. If this is what _children _did, then they could do it way the hell away from him. It wasn't that he didn't like them, honestly, he would dive head-first into hell to make sure they were safe, but sometimes their antics got to be a little too much, and there's only so many danger room sessions you can hand out before they're all practically living in there. So really, it was for the better that he went away for a bit; both for his own sanity and to keep him from irrationally snapping a kid's head off (which would no doubt earn him another lecture with a side of guilt).

He walked into the pub and nodded at the bouncer at the door. The place was pretty full, but that was to be expected on a Friday night. He managed to find an open dart board and perched himself on the stool in front of it.

"Wow, you lasted longer than Ah thought you would," the familiar, slightly exaggerated, southern accented sounded next to him. "Ah was half expectin' to see y'all here at least by ten." She set a beer down on the table next to him and handed him a box of darts.

"Give me some credit. They're kids, not a mob of terrorists."

"Sugah, sometimes Ah wonder if you know the difference," Anna winked and laughed a little when he glared at her. "Holler if you need anythin'. Ah got a few more tables to tend to," she said, motioning to the other drinks on her tray. Logan watched her move to the next table before opening the box of darts in his hand. She probably would have been a good kid. A little mouthy maybe, but if they had managed to recruit her that first time, she could have made a good addition to the team.

~oOo~

When it was close to closing time, he snuck in the back entrance. There was a space just big enough for him to slide into between a row of lockers and the wall. He waited patiently in the dark corner for her to get her things for the night. She was always one of the last to leave, which meant the chances of getting her alone were fairly good. But he brought some extra _insurance_ just in case someone did get in the way. He could feel the revolver press into his back from where it rested in the waistband of his jeans. It only held six rounds, but it would be plenty. If things went according to plan, he wouldn't need to use it at all and he had a good sized pocket knife that could serve as extra back-up if he needed it.

He froze for a moment when the door opened. He heard two female voices, neither of them Marie's. They were likely the blond and black-haired waitresses since those two were always the first to leave. Next would be the other blond waitress and then the bouncers. He was so close he could almost taste her.

~oOo~

"'Night boys! See y'all tomorrow!" Anna called to the security guards as she emptied the money from her apron and handed it to Jerry to count. "Well I think that's it boss, anything' else before I go?"

"Naw, go on home and get some rest. Fight's on tomorrow so it'll be packed in here," Jerry waved her off. Anna just nodded and pushed the back door open. She let out a sigh as she got to her locker and began to turn the dial of the lock. She didn't have time to scream when a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm strapped her against someone's body.

"Not a sound Marie, not a fucking sound," the man behind her hissed. She knew instantly who it was and what he wanted. Anna tried desperately to control her breathing and keep the tears from spilling. Gus slowly released is grip on her face, "If I so much as hear a squeak come out of your mouth I swear to God I'll kill you." He motioned to the gun in his other hand to drive the point home. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a thin, gold ring and held it up to her face. "Remember this? You forgot it when you decided to go on your little trip. And from what I've seen in the last few days, you've also forgotten about everything that goes along with it. Do you know what this ring means Marie?" He shoved her into the lockers. "Do you?"

~oOo~

Jerry counted the money again. Something wasn't right; she was over by about twenty dollars. "Anna," he called and went back to try counting the money again. After about a minute with no response, he called again. He looked at Logan slowly began to stand up. Jerry pushed open the door to the back room. He barely saw inside the room when he was pushed back by the sound of two, loud blasts followed by white-hot pain in his left shoulder and upper arm. The shriek that emitted from the room barely registered in his brain. His body collapsed to the floor and his mind refused to allow him to focus on anything else besides the biting pain.

_Skint!_ Logan's claws were popped and he jumped over the bar, practically flying into the back room. He saw Rogue held tightly by a man; the same man from the photograph that Charles had shown them – her husband. "Logan no!" she cried out to him. Gus shoved her into the ground and aimed his gun at Logan before firing off four rounds. Three of them connected and Logan dropped to the ground. "Gus stop! You'll kill him!"

_Something's not right, _Logan thought when he realized that his body was not healing itself and that his heightened senses weren't working.

Gus roughly picked Anna up and shoved her into the wall, hand on her throat. "Shut the hell up! You have absolutely nothing to say right now, especially after what you did to me!"

~oOo~

Remy was relieved when he saw that Logan's car was still in the pub's parking lot. He dismounted his bike and approached the door to see if it had been locked yet. His body momentarily froze at the sound of gunshots. Shaking himself loose of the shock, Remy sprinted to the door and walked in just in time to see Logan jump, claws out, into the room behind the bar. He was about to give his friend some back-up when he heard four more shots fired followed by Anna's distressed voice. "Gus stop! You'll kill him!" And that's when he remembered what Anna had told him about her husband's powers.

_Gotta shut this guy down quick or else Logan really is gonna die._ Stealthily he got behind the bar and noticed Jerry on the floor in a pool of blood. He leaned down and checked to see if he was still breathing. _Still alive,_ Remy thought. "Shut the hell up! You have absolutely nothing to say right now, especially after what you did to me!" He heard Gus shout. He inched into the room and saw Logan in a crumpled, bloody heap on the floor. His eyes scanned up to the back wall of the room where Gus held Anna by the throat. As much as Remy wanted to rush in and save her, he knew he needed to take his time to do this right, or else Anna might get seriously hurt or killed.

"You have two choices, either you come back home with me and fulfill the promise you made to me with this ring, or," he reached into his pocket and brought out the pocket knife, "I make you fulfill it in a different way."

"Gus, please, don't do this," Anna sobbed.

He hooked the edge of the blade against the neckline of her shirt and pulled downward. "Oh my sweet, beautiful Marie," each word dripped with false tenderness. Anna felt his hand against her abdomen pushing the torn fabric aside. She flinched when she felt flat side of the cold blade touch her stomach and travel up, just under her breasts. "Tell me, what more could you have possibly wanted from me as your husband?" He slid the blade under her bra and turned the blade outward, cutting open the centre of her bra. She closed her eyes and sobbed as he lifted each bra cup out of the way, exposing her to him. He crushed her lips with his own and forced his tongue in her mouth while his fingers circled and teased one of her nipples. "Didn't I take you in when you had nowhere else to go?" he said upon releasing her mouth. Folding the knife back up and putting it away, his hands slithered back down her stomach and down to the waistband of her jeans. "Didn't I," he unhooked the button and pulled down the zipper, "show you what it was like," his fingertips dipped into her panties before shooting downward and roughly hooking two fingers inside of her, "to be touched in a way you would have never experienced if it weren't for me?" Anna cried out at the intrusion and fought to choke down the sobs that were bubbling up in her throat. "Wasn't I faithful to you? Didn't I take care of you?" He was shouting now. "You promised to be mine forever, Marie!" He pulled his hand out of her pants and brought it up to join the hand at her throat. "And I plan to make sure that you either fulfill that promise," Anna suddenly felt her airway close as his hands tightened, "or at least make sure that you can't belong to anyone else! 'Till death do us part Marie! What do you chose?"

All that would come out of Anna's mouth was a strangled gurgling. She closed her eyes against the pain when she heard the sound of metal hitting flesh and felt Gus' hands drop from her throat. Air came rushing back into her lungs with an audible gasp causing her to cough and fall to her knees. She felt something drape over her shoulders.

"Anna? Chère?" Remy gently held her shoulders and urged her to respond.

"Remy?" she managed out between coughs as she looked up into concerned red and black eyes.

He put a gloved hand on her cheek, "Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, I think," she stammered, then her eyes widened. "Oh my God, Logan… and Jerry …are they…?" They heard a groan come from the doorway.

Remy put both his hands back on Anna's shoulders and helped her stand. She pushed her arms through the sleeves of the trench coat and pulled it tight around herself. "I think Logan's goin' to be alright, but we'd better call an ambulance for Jerry," he replied. He put an arm around her and tried to usher her out of the room. They barely made it to the door before they heard a voice behind them.

"You son of a bitch!" With surprising quickness, Gus stood and lunged at them, knife in hand. Remy pushed Anna behind him and held his staff out to block the attack.

"Anna! Go call the police!" Remy commanded.

"But..."

"Just do it!"

"Don't you dare Marie, or I'll kill this one too!" Gus yelled as Anna disappeared from the doorway. It was a weak attempt at a threat, but it was all he had left. Remy kicked him in the gut and caused Gus to stumble back. He jumped at Remy again and they began a series of strikes, weaves, and dodges. Gus caught Remy by surprise and nicked him in the arm before backing him into the lockers. "You don't get to touch my wife." Gus spat at Remy, holding the knife to his throat. "Marie belongs to me!"

"Anna," Remy said spitefully.

"What the hell are you…" Gus' statement was cut off by his own scream of pain. Remy looked down to see Logan's three claws sticking into the back of his calf. _Skant_! He retracted his claws and Gus fell to the ground.

"She likes to be called Anna," Remy continued. "You'd figure that of all people, her husband would know that." Gus looked ready to respond when he let out another scream and grabbed his head before passing out. Remy and Logan both looked toward the door to see Scott and Jean walk in.

"That ought to keep him out until the police get here," Jean said lowering her fingers from her temple.

Scott bent down and helped Logan up, "Come on, let's get out of here."

"What about Jerry? And where's Anna?" Remy asked.

"He'll be okay, the ambulance will be here any minute, and she's already in the van. Hank's checking for injuries," Scott replied.

When they got to the van, Remy immediately went to the back. He saw Anna sitting with his coat pulled tightly around her. He sat down beside her and tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. "Chère?" She looked up at him, tears still tumbling out of her eyes. To Remy's surprise, she buried her head into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. He firmly returned her embrace and whispered into her hair, "Hush now, it's all right. He won't hurt you anymore."

"Is… is he…"

"Non, petite, he ain't dead. But when the cops match the bullets in Jerry's shoulder to his gun, he's gonna be goin' away for a while at least." Anna just nodded and stayed in Remy's arms as the van started its journey back to the mansion.


	9. Epilogue

**I'd like to start by saying thank you, thank you, and a thousand times thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and to support this story by either leaving reviews or adding it to favourites or alerts. A special thanks for everyone who has stuck with this story from the beginning. I have to say that after publishing the first chapter, I wasn't expecting much of a response, and probably would have written until the ideas went dry and left this fic hanging, but all of you who showed me that you liked this story inspired me to finish it. This is the first-ever multi-chapter story I've actually completed and except for a few little parts that I wish I would have done differently, I'm proud of it. So here is the last instalment; enjoy it, and leave a comment if you have the time.**

**Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

_**Deconstruct to Reconstruct: Epilogue**_

By the time they got back to the institute, Logan had completely healed. It turned out that after he was shot, Logan mustered up enough strength to activate the emergency homing beacon on his communicator alerting the others back at the mansion that there was trouble. Jean and Scott arrived just after Anna had called the police and she told them all about Gus' powers. Fortunately, since Gus was in extreme pain and unaware that there was anyone else on the way, the nullification field emitted by his powers didn't extend further than the back room of the bar. Jean was able to use her telepathy from outside the room to knock him unconscious, thereby turning off his powers.

Anna stood under the hot spray of water trying to wash away the tension and residual adrenaline that had built up over the events of the evening. Shaky hands scrubbed at her scalp as she resisted the urge to crumble into a mess of tears and sobs again. She felt bad about just leaving Jerry there. She had no idea if he would be alright, or even survive. Scott had assured her that he was going to be just fine and that it was better for them to leave before the police arrived. She felt even worse about all of the people who got dragged into this mess because of her. She should have just stayed on her own to begin with. Even if Gus had found her and wound up killing her, at least no one else would have been hurt in the process. She shut off the water and reached for a towel to begin drying off. She wrapped the white, fluffy terrycloth around herself and paused at the mirror. Purple marks were starting to surface around her throat; they would be a dark, angry purple by tomorrow. Sighing, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. She dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. Her gloves remained on the dresser as towelled off her hair.

A knock sounded from her door. "Just a minute," she called as she put the towel down and pulled on her gloves before opening the door. In the doorway stood Remy dressed in black sweatpants and a white, long-sleeved shirt, and, Anna noticed, black, leather gloves on his hands. "Hey," she stepped aside as a non-verbal invitation.

"Hey," Remy replied as he moved into the room. "How are you doin'?"

Anna shrugged, "Still coming down I guess. It's hard to believe that all of that really happened."

He nodded and studied her for a moment. She was still visibly shaken. Her hands would tremble when they moved, and her voice was hushed and unsure. His eyes focused on her neck, and without realizing it, his fingers reached up to the faint blotches that marred the porcelain skin there. Anna's breath hitched a little at his proximity and the sudden surge of butterflies in her stomach causing Remy to retract his hand as the sound woke him from his momentary daze. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It's alright," Anna tried to brush it off.

"I'm glad you're alright," Remy started again. "When I heard those gunshots I was worried you were on the receivin' end of them." He looked at her again, trying to read her face.

"Yeah, instead it was someone else put in danger 'cause of me," her arms crossed and she caster her head down.

"Anna…"

"No, if it wasn't for me, then Jerry and Logan wouldn't have gotten all shot up and you guys wouldn't be cleanin' up after me!"

"And then what? What would have happened to you?" he kept his voice even despite his urge to shake some sense into her.

"It doesn't matter," she shook her head and met his eyes. "It would have all stayed between me and Gus and no one else would have been hurt because of it."

"Chère," he took a step closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Logan's healin' factor's made him as good as new, and the prof checked in at the hospital on Jerry and he's gonna be fine."

"That's not the point! If Jean hadn't managed to come knock him out, Logan's healin' factor wouldn't have kicked in and he would have died. Hell, who knows what he could have done to you if…" she trailed off with a choked sob.

"Anna, listen to me," he gently gripped her other shoulder and levelled his eyes with hers, "it all could have happened, but it didn't. Right now, everyone is alright. I saw with my own two eyes what he did to you; homme's not right in the head. All he wanted was to control you, and if he couldn't, he would have killed you." Tears were rolling freely down Anna's face. Remy pulled her against him, "And I would never be able to forgive myself if I ever let a fils de pute like him do that to you."

"But what if he comes back for me, Remy?" she spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I just know that even if I manage to get a divorce from him that it won't keep him away. They won't keep him in jail forever."

"As long as I'm around, he ain't settin' a foot anywhere near you again," he rubbed his back to soothe her. "And now, the rest of us are prepared for him. We'll know how to stop him if he ever comes back." He held her until her sobs quieted.

~oOo~

Later that afternoon, Anna found herself in Professor Xavier's office. Her fingers twisted and knotted nervously as she sat in the high-backed, leather chair in front of his desk. "Good afternoon Rogue," he began with a calm voice and kind smile. "How are you holding up?"

Anna shrugged, "I'm just glad that mostly everyone's okay."

Charles nodded and continued, "I know that it's a little soon to be discussing this, but anytime something might involve some type of legal process, it's best to get things started as soon as possible." Anna nodded to indicate that she understood. "You don't need to make any decisions right now, but I would like to lay out all of your options so that you have time to think about what you would like to do." He paused for a moment, and steepled his fingers under his chin. "You will have the option to press charges if you wish. I believe that the bar owner has already decided to, but if you do as well, it would only help to build the case against Augustus." Anna said nothing and only nodded again. "Then that brings into question what you would like to do about your marriage."

"I do want a divorce eventually, but I can't exactly afford the legal fees to get that done right now," she replied.

"You needn't worry about the costs, dear. I would be more than willing to assist you and offer you the services of my legal team."

"That's very nice of you, but it would be too much…"

"Nonsense," Charles interrupted her, waving his hand. "As a matter of fact I insist. The more ties you sever with your husband, the better off you'll be."

"I suppose you're right, but I really don't want to be a burden. You've all done so much for me already," she tried to reason.

"Believe me when I say that it is my pleasure to give assistance where I can," he responded. "Now, have you given any thought to what you're going to do next? Your records indicate that you haven't completed high school yet. Would you like to work toward getting your diploma?"

"I'd like to," she answered. "It doesn't feel too good to be a drop-out."

"If you like I can arrange correspondence courses for you so that you won't actually have to attend school. I imagine it would be a little uncomfortable to be stuck in classes with students a few years younger than you."

"I'd like that, thank you," she grinned a little.

"And of course you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to, or as long as you want to," he stated with that kind smile of his again. "There will be no pressure to join the team of course so you won't have to attend training sessions, but I recall you and Logan making arrangements for some self-defence lessons to begin next week." Anna nodded. "Well then, that's all we need to discuss for now. Take some time to think and get some more rest."

Anna stood, but before she turned to leave she said, "Thank you Professor, for everything. Y'all have been so kind to me without really knowin' me."

"Rogue, as I've already said, it's my pleasure."

"Anna," she said. At Xavier's furrowed brow she explained, "Rogue sounds too much like a superhero code name. I like to go by Anna."

"Very well then, Anna," the smile returned to Charles' face, "I'll see you later." With that, she left his office.

~oOo~

Gus sat on the cold floor of his cell, seething while rubbing at the power dampening collar around his neck. He couldn't believe that she managed to slip through his fingers like that. He'd almost brought her back to where she belonged. When he got out of here, she would be sorry. Footsteps approached his cell and he looked up to see the guard stop and stare at him with contempt. "What the fuck are you looking at?" he spat.

The guard unlocked the cell and stepped inside, closing the bars behind him. "Oh, nothing, just a wife-beating, piece of trash." Gus leaped up, fists primed to pummel the guard, hesitating when he noticed that the guard's eyes change from brown to all yellow. The guard grinned and he melted away to reveal a red-haired, blue skinned woman. "What? Aren't you going to say hello to your mother-in-law?" her voice dripped with sarcasm. She grabbed his wrists and kicked him in the gut, causing him to crumple to the ground. Calmly, methodically, she crouched down next to him and pulled his head up by his hair. "I'd like to say that I'm going to teach you a lesson for everything you've done to my daughter," Mystique moved behind him and placed her hands on either side of his head. "I'd like to say that you'll be sorry for taking advantage of a vulnerable, young girl so that you could break her down and control her," she leaned in closer and whispered the next part in his ear, "but I'd rather make sure that you never lay a finger on my Anna Marie again." In one swift movement, a sickening crack echoed off the concrete walls and Augustus Richter fell limp. Mystique rose and took one last look at him before shifting into a snake and slithering between the bars and out of the jail.


End file.
